Fragrance of the Violet
by InfinityStar
Summary: A case investigation brings Goren face-to-face with a ghost from his past, which strains and changes his relationship with his partner during a very unsettling time.
1. Murder at the United Nations

**A/N: In this story, Goren's background is altered a bit. His mother went missing when he was twelve and has been presumed dead. His father abandoned the family a year before that without keeping in contact with his sons and they did not try to find him after their mother disappeared. Fifteen-year-old Frank was solely responsible for keeping both himself and Bobby out of foster care. He delayed college to stay home and watch after his younger brother until he turned eighteen. That brought the brothers closer, and despite Frank's drug use, Bobby remains close to him. **

**After joining the NYPD, Goren tried to find out what happened to his mother, but he only ran into dead ends and cold trails. After several fruitless years of investigation, he came to the same conclusion the state had two-and-a-half decades earlier, that his mother was dead. Undeterred and dissatisfied with the conclusion, he continued to investigate, seeking the how and the why. To date, he did not have the answers he sought. **

**This case takes place during the summer of 2006, after Jimmy Deakins' departure in the spring but before the events of Blind Spot.**

* * *

_**Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it. **_

_**~Mark Twain** _

* * *

As the sun peeked over the eastern horizon, Alex Eames parked the black SUV outside the United Nations Headquarters building, slipping the 'police vehicle' placard onto the dashboard. The day was already warm. She and Goren walked toward the crime scene, sectioned off with yellow police tape and guarded by several uniformed officers. As Goren slid his badge onto the breast pocket of his suit jacket, she made sure hers was visible on her belt. They were allowed passage into the crime scene.

The victim lay sprawled beneath a huge bronze sculpture of a gun with a knot tied in its barrel. Goren looked up at the sculpture for a moment. "_Non-Violence_," he said, pointing to the sculpture. "This was a gift to the UN from the country of Luxembourg. The artist, Karl Frederik Reutersward, designed it following the deaths of John Lennon and Bob Crane. He was inspired by the outpouring of grief that followed those murders."

Eames smiled at the casual way in which he offered the details of the statue. _Bless his heart_, she thought. Some people got entirely the wrong impression of her brilliant partner. The only time he tried to be an arrogant know-it-all was when it would serve a purpose with a suspect. Any other time, like now, he was simply trying to be informative, to place things into proper context. For a few seconds, she watched him scan the raised pedestal upon which the sculpture, and the body, sat, then she asked, "Think our perp is making a statement?"

"What would that statement be, Detective Eames?" came a voice from behind them.

She turned to face their new captain, Danny Ross, as Goren climbed up onto the pedestal to examine the body. "We don't know yet, captain," she said. "We just got here."

Ross looked past her, watching Goren do his thing. He was impressed by the gentleness with which Goren handled the body as he examined the gunshot wound to the victim's torso. When he spoke, his voice carried a note of gentle reverence for the victim. "Entry wound in the chest, just to the left of the sternum. Bullet likely struck the heart," he said, not looking up.

Eames moved to help him gently roll the body onto its side. He leaned forward to examine the victim's back. "Exit wound here," he muttered, motioning to her blood-saturated orange silk shirt. Gently pulling the shirt up to expose the ragged exit wound, Goren also noted the huge pool of blood beneath the victim. "Uhm, even if the bullet didn't instantly kill her, she would have bled out very quickly. She'd have died within minutes of being shot."

He rolled her back into position, leaning down to sniff the victim's mouth. Ross looked at Eames, his eyebrows arched. He leaned toward Eames and softly asked, "This is normal procedure?"

"For him it is," she answered just as softly. "He's very thorough. Nothing puts him off."

Goren sat back on his heels, processing the odor and paying no attention to the conversation taking place a few feet away from him. "Alcohol, cigarettes, uhm..." He scratched the back of his neck, thinking. "Uh, d-durian fruit."

Eames looked up at him. "Durian fruit?"

He nodded, his eyes casting nervously toward Ross. "It's, uh, it's native to southeast Asia. It has a particular odor that some people find...revolting. One of the last things she had to eat contained durian."

As he returned to his examination of the body, Eames gave Ross a look that said _See?_ Aloud, she explained, "He spent some time in South Korea when he was in the Army. That's how he knows so much about durian fruit." After a pause, she added, "And octopus stew," remembering another case and his boyish amusement at recounting a story of octopus stew for her.

Ross frowned, wondering where that reference had come from, but Eames didn't elaborate. Goren, however, heard what she'd said and he smiled to himself. Ross' arrival on scene sent his stress level through the roof, and he had a feeling Eames knew that. From the moment they'd been introduced, Ross had treated him like a freak without even giving him a chance to prove himself, and he didn't appreciate that. Deakins had his moments where Goren wore on his nerves—everyone did—but the former captain had respected him and, in turn, he'd earned Goren's respect, something that was not easy to do. He'd once heard Eames speculate that Deakins was a father figure to him, a comment that left him thinking for a very long time about his captain before he'd concluded that she was right. Deakins had also served as a stabilizing influence, a quiet presence that enabled Goren to keep on track when a case might otherwise consume him. Only Eames had a greater impact on him, moderating his obsessive tendencies and calming him when he began to get out of hand. Without her, he would have been lost long ago.

Glancing up from the body, he watched Ross talk in hushed tones with Eames. When Deakins resigned, Goren knew he would miss his captain, but he'd had no idea just how much. He returned his attention to the victim sprawled before him.

Eames stayed with the captain, running interference between him and her partner. She knew that Ross didn't trust Goren; he listened too much to the rumors. Goren didn't help matters any, but she felt a need to protect him. He was unconventional, to say the least, but she was happy to be his partner. He'd earned her respect, and more, and she wasn't going to let Danny Ross harass him while he did his job. She didn't care whether Ross approved of her partner's methods; his only concern should be the results Goren got. She made sure that Goren didn't compromise a conviction with his aggressive interrogation technique by keeping him in line and reminding him of the parameters within which he had to work. He often skirted the line, but rarely did he ever cross it.

Goren spent the next twenty minutes with the victim, uncovering everything she had to tell him. He didn't miss anything, a fact that Eames deeply appreciated. In the squad room, he might miss an elephant walking by his desk, but at a crime scene, nothing got past him. He could be easily distracted in most any environment, but when the victim of a crime was telling its tale, Goren remained focused on what the body had to tell him.

As they walked away from the scene with Ross, Goren scribbled in his binder, trusting Eames not to let him walk into anything. _Female victim, mid-to-late-30s, __Asian/African American, COD: GSW to the chest, last meal: alcohol, durian fruit, ?._

"According to the graveyard officer on duty," Eames informed the two men. "She wasn't there when he made his last rounds through here at 3. When he came back at 5:00, there she was. They're going to pull the security tapes and send them to us."

Goren stopped suddenly, turning and looking up to scan the area for security cameras, which he had subconsciously noticed when they arrived. Confirming the position of each one, he nodded, satisfied that the camera tapes could possibly be of some use. As he turned to continue walking, he said, "She was dressed to the nines. Was there a function last night?"

"Yes," Ross answered. "A reception hosted by the Secretary-General..."

"...who is Asian," Goren completed, earning a frown from his boss and a covert smile from his partner.

Goren very clearly made Ross nervous, and the feeling was mutual. When Deakins was their captain, Goren had been confident, even arrogant at times. Since Ross had become their captain, his manner was often one of faltering uncertainty. Although he had no doubts in his ability to work their cases and arrive at successful conclusions, his outward display of arrogant self-assurance was gone. To her surprise, Eames missed it. She hated to think he might be doubting himself under any circumstances. She certainly did not doubt him, and she resented Ross for the negative changes she saw in her partner.

The captain stopped near the parked police and crime scene vehicles. "Watch your step here, folks," he cautioned, looking at Goren. "This is international territory and these diplomats do not have to talk to you. Handle them with kid gloves. Let's not spark an international incident, okay?"

Goren opened his mouth to reply, but Eames covertly touched his hand, silencing him. She answered, "Don't worry, captain. We'll be on our best behavior."

As Ross watched them walk away, he felt a knot form around the lump in the pit of his stomach. Exactly what _was_ Goren's best behavior?

* * *

As she pulled away from the UN headquarters building, Eames tried to distract her partner from his agitation. Ross showing up at the scene had him riled. "Have you ever eaten durian?" she asked, willing to bet money that he had. He had an insatiable curiosity about, well, everything, and if given the opportunity, she had no doubt he would have tried the much-maligned fruit.

Goren seemed to settle. "Uh, yes. A couple of times."

"So what's it like?"

"That depends on the variety and how it's prepared. It's a very...distinctive fruit. The raw fruit can be off-putting to some, but properly prepared, it's good."

"What about the raw fruit would put someone off?"

"Well, it has the consistency of custard and, uhm, it has a very pungent odor. It's actually been banned in some hotels because the odor is so...overpowering."

"What does it smell like?"

"That depends on the variety, too. Some people say it smells like almonds while others describe it as more of a raw sewage or rotting onion kind of smell. One of my buddies said it smells like dirty gym socks and stale vomit, kind of a 'day after' smell."

Stopped at a red light, she looked at him, her nose crinkled in disgust. "For real?"

He nodded. "For real."

"There's a quite a difference between something that smells like almonds and something that smells like raw sewage or dirty gym socks. Those odors are on opposite ends of the spectrum."

He shrugged. "It all depends on the variety," he said simply.

Her brow furrowed and she shook her head. "I'd like to know what kind of person breaks open the husk of _anything_, finds something inside that's mushy and slimy and smells like dirty gym socks and says 'Gee, I wonder what this tastes like'?"

He laughed softly and they both relaxed. After a few minutes, he said, "We need to find out what food was served at the reception last night."

"I'll request a menu from the staff."

He shifted his binder on his lap and bounced his knee, a manifestation of his restless anxiety. "Why do you think he was there?" he asked.

"Ross? Well, he's the new captain. I guess he's trying to see how his officers work in the field. Don't you remember Logan complaining that he was looking over his shoulder at a scene the other night?"

A worried frown creased his brow. He remembered. "I hope he's not going to pop up at every scene."

She glanced at him. Some people classified him as a show-off, but she knew better. He hated being under scrutiny. He preferred to just be left alone to do his job, which he did very well, by anyone's standards. His methods might not suit every taste, but there was no denying the results he got. "Don't worry about it, Bobby. You just do your thing. I'll handle Ross."

He looked at her and gave her a small smile, which she returned. He felt a sudden surge of affection for her, and he had no idea what to do with it. He flexed his hand, fighting an urge to reach out to her, to touch her. He doubted physical contact would be welcome, and he had an unreasonable fear that, having appeared at the scene unannounced like he did, Ross was still monitoring their behavior. Irritated at the captain, he had a pressing desire to test the limits of Ross' tolerance, but respect for his partner would ultimately prevent him from acting on that desire. Resting his hand in his lap, he watched the passing scenery and his mind drifted back to the case.

* * *

Goren sat up straight in his chair and stretched his back. He stifled a yawn, which Eames caught as she returned to her desk from the bathroom. "It's almost nine o'clock. Why don't we call it a night?" she said. "I'll drive you home."

"Thanks, but I want to go over my notes some more. You go on."

"Nothing in your notes is going to change between now and tomorrow morning, and the surveillance videos won't be here until tomorrow."

"I know, but I'm too keyed up to go home right now."

With a sigh, Eames pulled out a folder, unwilling to leave him to work alone. "Okay, so then, let's review." She opened the folder, which contained the medical examiner's preliminary report. "Annie Kim," she read. "Thirty-six years old. Apparent cause of death: .38 caliber gunshot wound to the chest. Time of death between midnight and 4am."

Goren shuffled through the papers in front of him. "Uh, stomach contents...what did they find in her stomach?"

Eames scanned the pages in front of her. "Stomach contents," she murmured to herself as she looked. "Stomach contents...here we are...let's see...they found fish, rice, nuri seaweed, avocado, carrots, cucumbers, durian, pumpkin, saki."

Goren pulled out a paper and studied it. After a moment, he waved it in the air and said, "This is the menu for the reception they faxed over...a full range of sushi and sashimi, an open bar that contained twelve different kinds of saki, a wide range of desserts, including eight different items made with durian. Uhm, it was a buffet-type setting, not a full dinner service. Everything in her stomach is accounted for in the menu, so most likely, she ate at the reception. Uhm, did they tell us how late the reception lasted?"

Eames looked through her notes. "No, I don't see that, but the ME noted that she probably finished eating between nine and ten."

She picked up her pen and turned to a notepad on the desk near her phone, adding _reception hours_ to a list of questions they'd come up with over the course of the day. He also noted it in his binder. Something just wasn't adding up in his mind, and that contributed to his unsettled restlessness. Across the room, the fax machine fired up. "Someone else is keeping late hours," he said as he got up and walked to the machine. "Here's our guest list."

As he returned to his desk, he read over the list. "Here we are...Annie Kim. She was a guest of Sutter Industries. Right under her name is another guest of Sutter Industries, Morris Franklin. Annie's date, maybe? Another employee? We need to find him and have a chat." He paused, leaning over his desk to jot down the names _Sutter Industries_ and _Morris Franklin_. "Sutter Industries," he mused. "What kind of agency is that and why would they be invited to attend a function at the UN?"

Eames turned to her computer and began typing. "Sutter Industries," she read. "They provide a wide range of consulting services, from construction and catering to imports and interpretation. Looks like they have their fingers in a lot of very different pots."

"Is it a corporation?" he asked as she continued to type and click.

She shook her head slowly. "According to our database, one man owns the whole thing outright. Colonel Terrance Sutter, U.S. Army, retired." She typed some more as he scrawled in his binder. "DMV records say Col. Sutter lives on the Upper East Side. Not bad for an old Army man, huh? Want to pay the colonel a house call tomorrow?"

"Sounds like fun."

She smiled. "Now can we leave?"

With a sigh of reluctance, he gathered the papers and reports he'd scattered over his desk, realizing she was not going to leave until he did. She put away her computer and gathered her papers as he stuffed everything into his binder. "The offer of the ride still stands," she said.

He shook his head. He had no intention of heading right home. "No thanks. I'll take the subway."

"Have it your way. I'll pick you up in the morning at 9."

He nodded. "See you then."

She watched him cross the squad room and jab the 'down' button with a finger. He shifted restlessly as he waited for the elevator. With a final glance at her over his shoulder, he got into the elevator car. She opened her lower desk drawer to grab her purse, then paused. Like her partner, she was adding two and two and getting five for an answer. She wasn't going to be able to sleep until she sorted it out. Goren was rubbing off on her.

Pulling her laptop back out of her desk, she opened it and began to type. She spent another forty-five minutes doing some preliminary research before she also left for the night.


	2. Tracking Down the Colonel

Just before nine the following morning, Eames pulled up outside Goren's apartment building, surprised to find him outside waiting for her. She watched him walk around to the passenger side of the car and get in. "You okay?" she asked.

He rubbed his temple and nodded. "Rough night," he said, but he didn't elaborate.

"Hung over?" she asked, careful of her tone. He was very temperamental when he was feeling under the weather.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Have you heard from Ross?" he asked, avoiding her question, the answer to which she already knew.

She focused her attention on the road. "He called me as I left the house this morning."

"Did he offer any words of wisdom?"

She didn't miss the sarcasm in his tone. "He noticed that you seemed out of sorts yesterday. He's concerned."

"Somehow, I doubt that."

"Bobby..."

"Can we stop for coffee?" he asked, trying not to snap, although he couldn't keep the testiness from his tone.

As much as she wanted to continue the conversation, she knew from experience that it would quickly deteriorate into an argument so she let it drop and stopped for coffee on the way to Terrance Sutter's home on Manhattan's elite Upper East Side.

* * *

Their visit to Sutter's residence was unproductive. The butler who answered the door politely informed them that the colonel and his wife were currently at their summer residence in East Hampton. Although Goren's mood had not improved, he agreed when Eames suggested they make the two-and-a-half hour drive out to the eastern tip of Long Island.

Eames enjoyed out-of-town driving. It relaxed her. It also gave her partner time to review their case and get his temper under control. He buried himself in the case file as he jotted notes to prepare for the upcoming interview. Absently, he ran his hand through his hair and stifled a yawn. "Are you sure you're okay?" Eames asked, glancing at him.

Goren didn't answer immediately as he struggled to check his temper. He didn't like being out of sorts, but he was and he was trying not to take it out on her. Fatigue and frustration, in addition to the lingering headache that throbbed behind his eyes, added to his bad mood. "I, uhm, yes, I'm fine." Then, by way of hesitant explanation, he added, "Uh...Frank showed up last night."

She became tense. Now she knew why he was hung over and why he'd been waiting for her outside his apartment. It also explained his grouchy demeanor. She made no secret of her dislike for his brother, and that made him uneasy. He hated being at odds with her. Frank had tried to win her over the first couple of times they met. He was charming enough, even though he wasn't genuine. His charm was aimed solely at achieving an end of some sort, usually involving sex or money. She'd reacted with anger when he hit on her, finally offering to castrate him if he did not back off. After that, he decided that she was either gay or she was hung up on his brother. He didn't have any other explanation for her rejection. "Last night when?" she asked, struggling to at least keep her tone neutral.

Her reaction didn't surprise him, although he'd expected a little more negativity. "I don't know. Around ten, I guess."

"And?"

Goren shrugged. "And what? We went out for a burger and a few beers. It's fine, Eames."

She felt her patience slipping. "Bobby, it's never fine when Frank comes calling. Remember what happened last time?"

"That was a year and a half ago, and Deakins handled it."

"Yeah, you got lucky. That was Deakins. He's not around any more to bail your ass out. I don't think Ross will be so understanding."

"It was beer this time, Eames. Just beer."

"So why didn't you sleep well last night? You usually sleep like a rock when you've been drinking."

He got annoyed when she went mother hen on him. "Drop it, would you?" he snapped.

She wasn't quite ready to do that. "Where was Frank when I picked you up this morning?"

"Asleep."

"Is that why you were waiting outside?"

"I didn't want to wake him. Look, I know you don't like my brother..."

She shook her head and waved a hand. "It's not that, Bobby," she said, her tone more gentle as she attempted to be conciliatory. "Frank is a very charming guy. It's what he does when he comes around that I don't like, the trouble he gets you into. He's bad news. I know you care about him, but I have to wonder if he actually gives a damn about you."

Goren scratched his head in agitation as he struggled to keep a hold on his temper. "How can you say that? He didn't have to put his life on hold for me when I was a kid, but he did. I owe him, Eames. He kept me out of the foster care system. I owe him a lot."

Eames shook her head. It was an old argument. Whenever Frank came to town, there was trouble. Although Goren talked to him on the phone frequently, she was grateful that he didn't come around very often. When he showed up, Frank was nearly as malignant for Goren as Nicole Wallace was. In the eight years they'd been partners, Frank had shown up four or five times. Each time, she had received a late-night call because Goren had gotten into some kind of trouble, and she was afraid the day would come when she wouldn't be able to help him. The last time had been the worst; there had been drugs and police involvement. Although Goren had sworn to her that he'd only been drunk, Deakins had to burn a favor or two to protect his favorite detective. She could not see Ross doing that. With Deakins gone, there would be hell to pay the next time Goren let Frank lead him astray. She supposed she should be grateful there not had been an incidents the night before, but Frank was still in town. There was still time... "Is he leaving soon?"

Goren felt his temper slip another notch. "I don't know. He knows he can stay for as long as he wants to."

"Bobby..."

"Please, Eames. Let's not fight about this again."

She took a deep breath. Now they were both uptight. "Just...promise me you won't let him mess you up again."

He was quiet for a minute as he took the time he needed to settle his mood. She cared about him, and that wasn't a bad thing, but he didn't need her to mother him. He had proven over the course of the past thirty-some years that he didn't need a mother. "I'll be fine, Eames. I promise."

That wasn't quite the promise she wanted, but it was all he was going to offer. Wisely, she let the matter drop. He was extremely defensive about his brother. In bits and pieces over the years, she had learned his life story. When he was twelve, his mother, who was ill with schizophrenia, disappeared without a trace. Frank, who was fifteen at the time and had not yet gotten heavily into drugs, managed to stave off the authorities until he came of age and was able to legally be appointed guardian for his brother. Frank had been a good kid, an A student who was highly regarded by everyone. He had no trouble getting the backing he needed from responsible adults who knew him to be appointed Bobby's guardian. He postponed college to take care of his brother until Bobby turned eighteen but it was a battle keeping him out of foster care. Where Frank had always been a model student who avoided sketchy situations, Bobby was always in trouble. He was fifteen the first time the police brought him home. Frank had sacrificed a lot for his younger brother.

Goren went to college and then into the Army. When he came home from the Army, Frank was lost to a world into which—by some miracle—Goren did not follow. Instead, he chose to continue the law enforcement career he began in the Army's CID. He joined the ranks of the NYPD. The tides of their young lives had turned, leading to a role reversal between the brothers. Although he maintained regular contact with his brother, Frank made only occasional appearances, but Eames had come to dread them almost as much as she did Nicole Wallace's. For a long time, she could not decide who was worse—Frank or Nicole. After Frank's last visit, though, she'd decided that it was Frank. Goren loved and trusted his brother, and there was little he would not do for Frank. At least he was wary of Nicole, unlikely to get sucked in by her, but Frank was able to suck him in without ever even trying. Her partner was a good man, very much a straight arrow until his brother came to town.

Eames hated being at odds with him, and she knew it was going to be a long, uncomfortable day if she didn't turn his mood around. She felt a pang of guilt for riding him about Frank, but she couldn't help worrying about him. With an exaggerated sigh, she attempted to change the dark mood that had descended over him. "I did a little research last night."

He looked at her sharply, his eyes blazing with anger and suspicion. "About my brother?"

"What? No. Of course not. About Terrance Sutter."

"This was after you insisted I go home?"

Altering his mood was going to be more difficult than she anticipated. "I was in bed by the time you met up with your brother," she snapped defensively.

The bite of her tone penetrated his defensive rage and he forced himself to calm. He shouldn't be angry because she cared about him. After all, there were so few people in his life who fell into that category. "I'm sorry," he murmured, almost always the first to give in and apologize when they fought. "What did you find out?"

Eames relaxed a little. "Sutter is a career Army officer who went into business for himself after he retired from the Army as a full colonel in the mid-nineties. He married for the first and only time in 1975 and they had a daughter in 1976 and a son in 1977. He's an astute businessman who quickly amassed a small fortune and as far as I could tell, he's above reproach."

Goren was silent, looking out the window as he chewed on his lower lip. "I still have a buddy or two with access to Army records. I'll make a call and see how squeaky clean the colonel's military records are."

"Are you looking for something specific?"

He shook his head. "No, not necessarily. But I'm always suspicious of squeaky clean records until we find out for certain they really are clean."

"Have you formed any kind of preliminary opinion of Colonel Sutter?"

"Not yet."

She nodded. Goren was never quick to judge and she was glad that his mood hadn't spurred him to change that. She decided to let the matter of his brother fall to the wayside for the moment. He needed to concentrate on Terrance Sutter for the time being and, in order to do that, he had to get his head on straight. She left him alone to do just that.


	3. An Unexpected Surprise

Terrance Sutter's summer home was a splendid brick house with a large, covered porch and a huge, well-kept yard. At the far end of the house, a gardener was busy tending to an elaborate flower bed that stretched across the entire front of the house. Before Eames could stop him, Goren wandered over to see what he was doing. With an affectionate smile and a shake of her head, she followed him.

As they walked toward the gardener, Goren explained, "My mother loved to garden. It was, uh, therapeutic for her."

Goren often spoke of his mother, which puzzled her for the longest time. He was reminded of her, sometimes by the smallest things, and he always shared those memories with Eames, which was one of the things that had become most endearing to her. Late one night, after one of Nicole Wallace's more damaging visits, Eames offered to buy him a drink. To her surprise, he accepted. For her, the intent was to unwind, but he was driven by a need to reconnect with the partner who grounded him. She'd been very uncomfortable at the thought of him going home alone that night, though she couldn't put her discomfort into words. Deakins, it seemed, had a similar concern because he'd called her to his office about thirty minutes before they left and asked her to keep an eye on him for awhile. She had readily agreed.

One drink became two, then five, and they kept going. Curiosity, and a few too many screwdrivers, got the better of her and she asked him about those little things that reminded him of the mother who had abandoned him. He'd been drinking boilermakers, which served to loosen his tongue, and he explained that those little things helped to keep him connected to her, to keep her alive within a mind that didn't remember her very well. Her disappearance had deeply traumatized him, and he still struggled to come to terms with her abandonment of him and Frank. Knowing that had helped her to understand him better and she'd grown as close to him as he would allow her to get, which was closer than anyone but Frank had ever gotten.

"Did she have a big garden?" she asked, hoping to smooth over the argument from the ride out there.

He shook his head, the argument all but forgotten. He was never able to remain angry with her. "No, but she always wanted one. We lived in an apartment, so she was very limited with what she could do. But she had window boxes where she grew flowers and she had a nice herb garden on the fire escape. And she had house plants. I, uhm, I kept them alive until I left home. As long as her plants were doing well, I could imagine that she was, too. She loved those plants." He paused for a moment, then added, "Sometimes I wondered if she loved her plants more than she loved us."

She tried hard not to feel sorry for him. The last thing he ever wanted was pity from anyone, but especially not from her. If she showed any sign of pity, she knew he would stop talking to her about his mother, and she didn't want that. Still, she could not help feeling that no child should ever question his mother's love—especially compared to a bunch of plants. She pressed her lips together and didn't say anything more as they approached the gardener. Goren leaned to the right, bending at the waist, to see what the man was doing. "Peonies?" he asked.

The man looked up, surprised by their appearance. "Yes. Peonies. Can I help you?"

"Uhm, we're here to talk to Colonel Sutter, but I have an interest in gardening, so I wanted to see what you were doing."

"And you are?"

"Detective Goren, and this is my partner, Detective Eames. NYPD."

The gardener looked him up and down with suspicion. Goren glanced down and realized he hadn't taken out his badge. "Oh," he said softly as his fished in his pocket, withdrew the gold badge and hung it on his breast pocket.

Satisfied, the gardener gestured toward the house. "The colonel is in the house."

Goren nodded. "Thank you." He waved a hand at the grounds around them. "You do good work. It looks very nice."

"Thank you. Mrs. Sutter spends a lot of time out here and in the gardens out back. She doesn't have the greenest thumb, so the colonel pays me to keep everything healthy and pretty for her."

"Does she resent that?"

The man chuckled. "Oh, she don't know. She thinks I'm around just to mow the lawns. The colonel made it very clear that his wife can't know I take care of the gardens. So when she's away, I work my hardest. I don't gotta sneak around then and pretend I'm doing something else."

"Away where?"

"Oh, when she goes into the city for shopping or what not. I don't know what all she does when she's away. I'm just the gardener."

Goren nodded his head and made a show of admiring the flowering plants around them. He gestured to a bed of plants not far from them. "These are...uh..." He waved his left hand and gestured for the gardener not to tell him. He looked at Eames. "They're...Di...uh...Di..." He thought hard, then snapped his fingers when he remembered the name of the pretty flowers. "_Dianthus_...uhm... Sweet William."

The gardener smiled, impressed. "Very good, detective. Do you garden?"

"No, but my mother did when I was a kid. Sweet William was a favorite of hers."

"It's a pretty plant with nice flowers. Good for attracting bees and butterflies. Mrs. Sutter likes watching the butterflies, so there are lots of flowers in the gardens that attract butterflies."

Goren leaned over to smell an orange rose. "This is a nice color."

"The missus has different colored roses all around the grounds. She loves roses, so there are lots of rose bushes around."

"Uhm, the colonel...what kind of man is he?"

The gardener frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Is he the kind of man who, uh, treats people well...his wife, for instance? Or does he knock her around behind closed doors?"

"The colonel?" He shook his head adamantly. "Hell, no. In twenty years I ain't never even seen him raise his voice to her. He ain't never been nothing but kind and patient with her, especially when she's out of sorts. The colonel's a good man, a good husband and father. And he's never been nothing but good to me, too. Couple a years ago, I got into some trouble with a loan shark. Colonel Sutter paid him off an' made me swear I'd never do that again, that I'd go to him straightaway if I ever needed money for anything. He wouldn't let me pay him back, neither. The colonel's a good man. Don't let anyone tell you different."

Goren shared a look with his partner and scratched the back of his head. "Uh, okay. We'll be sure to keep that in mind. Thank you, Mr...?"

"Shakley. Burt Shakley."

"Mr. Shakley."

With a small smile and a brief wave, Goren stepped away from the man. Eames gave the gardener a smile and followed Goren back toward the house. After climbing the steps onto the porch, Goren rang the bell and stepped back, letting Eames take the lead when a maid answered the door. Eames held up her badge. "Hi. We're detectives from the city. We need to see Colonel Sutter."

The maid looked at the badge Eames held in her hand, then at the one Goren held up for her to see. She let them into the house and led them to a sitting room off the main foyer. She motioned them into the room. "Where did you say you were from?"

"We're from the city," Eames answered.

The maid made a quiet noise as she turned away from the door. "You folks don't usually come all this way from the city," she said, more to herself than to them. Then she spoke to them, her tone one of tired frustration. "Make yourselves comfortable. I'll get the colonel."

Eames took a seat in a high-backed wing chair while Goren wandered around the room, reading the titles of the books in the bookcases and looking at the pictures and other assorted items hanging on the walls and sitting on shelves around the room. She watched him and smiled to herself. He always had to be occupied, to be touching or looking at something whenever they were forced to wait for an interview—and sometimes even during the interview. His observations of the most mundane things gave him insight that often enabled them to break a case. More than once, he had accurately profiled a person just by looking through books and other items displayed around a room. She learned long ago to give him his head and let him do what he needed to do, especially when they were unsure where the person they talked to fit within the scope of the crime they were investigating. Deakins never had a problem with Goren's style, but it appeared that Ross might. Goren was already clashing with the new captain. Neither man was willing to give the other a chance.

Sutter didn't keep them waiting long. He was a tall, handsome man with a commanding presence. The room seemed small enough to Eames with Goren in it. When Sutter came in through the French doors in the south wall, the room seemed to shrink by half again. She half-expected some kind of fanfare to sound, as when royalty entered a room. Like her partner, Sutter was a man whose very presence drew attention to himself, but while Goren most often tried very hard to fade into the background and be unobtrusive, Sutter seemed to have no problem with the attention he drew. Part of her was concerned she was going to see some kind of alpha dog dominance display between the colonel and Goren, who was not known for his subservience to authority figures, wherever they came from. "Detectives, welcome to my home," Sutter said as he entered, offering his hand to each of them.

Eames took the lead so Goren could continue to explore the room...and perhaps interact a little less with the colonel. "Thank you for seeing us, Colonel Sutter," she began. "I'm Detective Eames. That's my partner, Detective Goren. We'd like to talk to you about Annie Kim."

Sutter sat down across from Eames, undeniably relieved, although he hid it quickly. Goren noticed. Sutter placed his hands on his legs and said, "Annie Kim works for me. What seems to be the problem?"

"There was a reception at the UN..." Goren said, then trailed off, looking at Sutter expectantly.

"Yes. It was hosted by the Secretary General, who sent me an invitation. Since I was unable to attend, I sent two of my employees, Annie and Morris. I knew they would appreciate it, since Asia is their area of expertise."

"What exactly does Ms. Kim do for you?"

"She authenticates items that we import from Asia. The company umbrella under which she works imports genuine Asian crafts and antiques. Part of our inventory comes from native craftspeople. The other part comes from items that Morris finds on trips to Asia—the more unique, the better, but always legally obtained and properly exported to New York. Is that what you're investigating?"

Avoiding an answer for the moment, Goren asked, "Company umbrella? Could you be more specific, sir?"

"_Asia on Your Doorstep_," he said. "I have a shopfront in Chinatown that Annie manages and Morris runs an online store for me."

"Antiques and imported crafts," Eames said. "That's why you sent them to the UN function?"

"Well, no. The imports are their primary jobs, but they also work for me as interpreters. Morris is fluent in several different dialects of Chinese as well as Japanese and Korean. Annie speaks Mandarin and Cantonese as well as Thai, Filipino and Vietnamese. Honestly, detectives, would you please tell me what this is all about?"

Eames and Goren looked at each other for a moment before Eames explained, "Annie Kim was found dead yesterday morning, Colonel Sutter."

"On UN grounds," Goren added, watching the colonel closely for his reaction.

Sutter was stunned. "Oh, my God...Annie... Who...who would have done such a thing?"

"We were hoping you might have some idea."

Slowly, Sutter shook his head. "I can't imagine a soul who would want to harm her."

"When was the last time you saw her?"

"Oh, it's been three weeks or more. My wife and I have been out here on the Island since mid-June."

Goren wandered over to the fireplace. "Who runs your company while you're...away, Colonel Sutter?"

"I have many different interests, detective. I haven't been hands-on in the day-to-day running of any of my companies for, oh, about two years now. I make it a point to know my employees but I trust my managers to run my companies while I enjoy spending time with my family. My daughter gave birth to a little boy last year and we have been spending a lot of time with him. In fact, my daughter is coming out here with him the day after tomorrow."

"How many employees do you have?" Goren asked.

"Thirty," Sutter responded.

Suddenly, Goren went very still. Eames, always in tune with her partner, particularly when they were in the field, noticed and glanced over at him. He looked her way at the same time, his face pale. He looked like he'd seen a ghost. She didn't know what to make of it.

"Colonel Sutter," Goren said, indicating a picture on the mantel. "Who-Who is this woman?"

"That's my wife."

Eames had never seen Goren so shaken. Sutter expressed concern. "What's wrong, detective? Can I get you a glass of water?"

Goren shook his head. "N-No, thank you. I, uh, I just need some air. Excuse me, please."

He left the house in a hurry. Her eyes dark with worry, Eames turned to Sutter. "Excuse me, Colonel Sutter. I'll be right back."

She caught up with Goren at the SUV, where he was pacing, deeply agitated. His breathing was ragged. "Bobby, what's wrong?" she asked, unable to keep the concern from her tone.

"That woman...h-his wife...I, uh, I know her. I know her, Eames. She-She's my mother."

Eames frowned. "Your mother? Are you sure?"

"There's a picture of her, on the mantle...she's with two young boys. I remember that picture, Eames. It used to sit on her bedside table, and it went missing with her. Those boys...they're Frank and me. I'm sure. It's her." He looked toward the house, his agitation increasing. "I-I have to talk to him."

"Not now," she cautioned, reaching out to gently grasp his arm. She could sense the rage growing in him. "We need to talk first, get your head on straight, before you talk to him."

"Eames..."

She tightened her grip. "I'm serious, Bobby. Go ahead and get in the car. We'll get a room out here for the night. We'll talk it through and come back tomorrow, once you've had time to digest this."

"Uh, the department...er, Ross...he won't sign off..."

She lightly rubbed his arm, calming him a little. "Don't worry about it."

He shifted and looked at the ground. She leaned forward to look into his face. "Go on," she said softly, motioning toward the car. "I'll be right back."

He met her eyes and finally nodded. "All right," he agreed.

She smiled and stepped away. He got into the car as she returned to the house. Rapping on the door, she pulled it open. "Colonel Sutter?"

He stepped out of the sitting room. "How is your partner?"

"He's not feeling well right now. We're going to come back tomorrow afternoon, if that's okay with you."

"Of course. I have some errands to run, but I'll be home after two."

"Will your wife be home then as well?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Can you tell me when she will be home?"

"It will be a couple of days. What does my wife have to do with any of this? She isn't involved with any of my business affairs."

"It's nothing for you to worry about, colonel. She has nothing to do with our case. We'll see you tomorrow afternoon."

She left the house and returned to the SUV. Sliding behind the wheel, she looked at Goren. Sitting with his elbow propped on the door and his hand covering his eyes, he had retreated inside his head, something she hated to see, but she understood. Starting the engine, she pulled away from the curb and drove down the street.


	4. Tempers Flare

**A/N: A quick note to explain my delay in updating-those of you who know me know that my little girl has been on dialysis for the past 4-1/2 years and has been awaiting a kidney transplant for the past six years. Last week we got the call. On Holy Thursday, just 2-1/2 weeks shy of her 15th birthday, she received a kidney transplant. She is thrilled, as are we all. What a gift for a child who very much needed it! So-yay for Katie!**

**Please understand that I love to write and as much as I love Goren, I can only write in my spare time. Since I work full time and raise a family that includes two chronically ill daughters, a chronically ill husband and a son who is not yet a teen, I cannot devote as much time as I would like to my craft. I do the best I can and update as frequently as I am able. I appreciate how much readers enjoy my stories, but please, bear with me as I balance my real life with the one I create in my mind and with my words for everyone to enjoy.**

* * *

She left him alone for a few minutes as she drove toward Montauk, then she called his name. He looked at her right away, and she was relieved that he had not retreated as far as she'd thought. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"I-I don't know. I...I should, uh, I should call my brother."

She felt a sudden, desperate need to keep him from getting together with his brother in the immediate future. His head was messed-up right now, and the last thing he needed was for Frank to toss his own particular brand of messed-up into the mix. She knew that he would need to talk to Frank soon, but right now he was vulnerable and dragging Frank into it would be the worst thing for him.

"Not now, Bobby," she insisted. "Wait until we talk to Colonel Sutter tomorrow. You should get the full story before you call Frank."

She had a point. He rubbed his hand over his hair as he nodded his agreement. "Okay, yeah...you're right. I should...I should get the full story before I call him."

After a few more minutes of prolonged silence, she attempted to zero in on his mindset and asked, "What are you thinking?"

"I, uh, what I think..." He slowly shook his head, unable to clear his mind. "I don't know. I don't know what to think or what to feel. I-I think I...I feel...gutted."

She didn't know what to say. Not wanting to say the wrong thing, she didn't reply. His gaze, dark and sad, strayed over her, but she wasn't sure he was really seeing her. Their case had crawled into the back seat and curled up in a corner, unnoticed, in the wake of this new development which had firmly shaken the foundations of Goren's world. They would get back to it, but first they had to deal with the identity of Colonel Sutter's wife and its ramifications for Goren.

Rubbing his palm over his thigh, Goren drew in a deep breath and tried to calm himself as he focused on sorting through his jumbled feelings. He felt a surge of gratitude that Eames wasn't inclined to be chatty. Turning back to the window, his thoughts centered on the mother he'd lost as a child, and then, on the partner seated beside him in the SUV. He tasted bile as his anger raged, aimed at the woman who had abandoned him so long ago and then calmed unexpectedly by a surge of unfamiliar emotions, ones that he was currently unwilling to explore, for the one woman who did not abandon him. Two women whose effect on his life was so profound... One made him feel worthless; the other let him know he was not. He had deep feelings for both women—one very negative, the other very positive. He resented his mother with an animosity that bordered on hatred, while he favored his partner with something akin to love. He was having trouble sorting through his confused emotions, unwilling to fully acknowledge any of them at the moment.

Eames found a place for them to stay near the town center in Montauk, which was as far east as you could go in the state of New York. She got one room with two queen beds, unwilling to leave her partner alone in his state of mind. He didn't argue. She wasn't sure he even noticed. They went to the room, but Eames felt unsettled as she watched him wander restlessly around the room. Staying in the room wasn't an option with which she was comfortable at the moment, knowing he was just going to mope and get irritated when she tried to engage him in conversation. So she gently grasped his arm, drawing his attention to her. "Go for a walk with me?" she asked.

He looked at her and she was hard hit by the deep sorrow she saw in his dark eyes. She swallowed, trying to unclench the fist that had gripped her heart. "A walk where?" he asked.

"Since I've never been to Montauk," she replied, struggling to loosen the constriction in her throat by clearing it. "I'd like to see the town."

He arched his left eyebrow, but didn't comment. She was glad to see some of the sorrow lift from him, and she squeezed his arm. "Walk with me, please."

His face softened some more and she saw a ghost of a smile breeze past his eyes. "Okay, Eames. I'll walk with you."

Her face brightened and he felt some of the heaviness lift from his heart. He followed her out of the motel and fell into step beside her as they walked toward Main Street.

After about twenty minutes of walking in companionable silence, Eames spoke up. With a gentle tone, she asked, "What are you feeling right now?"

He didn't answer right away, taking the time to try analyzing his emotions. He wasn't very successful. "I...I don't know," he replied honestly.

She decided to try to help him sift through what was undoubtedly a complicated mess in his head. She could see that he was struggling, unable to process it on his own. "You're angry," she began, knowing for certain that was one emotion he was feeling. She'd seen it in his eyes and she knew him well enough to know he was very angry.

After a moment, he nodded. "Yes," he said, willing to acknowledge that much.

"Tell me about that."

"What's to tell? I'm angry."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why?" he demanded as his rage surged, beyond his control.

"Talk to me, Bobby," she soothed, hoping she could calm him. He was all over the place at the moment. "I don't have any personal frame of reference for this, and I just want to...understand what you're going through."

She almost said 'help' instead of 'understand,' but stopped herself, knowing her choice of words was very important. He was a powder keg and she was holding a lit match. One wrong word would set him off and she would never get anywhere with him. She was being careful because she absolutely did want to help him. He just couldn't know that she was intentionally trying to do that.

Her tone was effective and his anger, so close to the boiling point, cooled a little. "I'm sorry," he murmured, as always, reluctant to upset her.

"Don't be sorry. You have every right to be angry."

"I...I...wait, what?"

She'd never validated his anger before, and her understanding set him further off kilter. As long as he was off balance, he couldn't focus and he didn't know what to do with the maelstrom of emotion assaulting him from all sides.

She couldn't help a small smile at his expression. "You heard me right," she said. "Her abandonment set the tone for the rest of your life. You were so young...I can't blame you for being angry. I would be angry, too."

"But...what Frank did also deeply affected my life. He took care of me, kept me out of foster care—and jail. But you still hate him, even though what he did for me was a good thing."

She sighed. "Hate is such a strong word. I don't hate Frank."

Frank had been there for him when he needed him most. He hadn't been an addict back then. He'd been a responsible big brother, something Eames failed to take fully into account when she reacted to her partner's admiration and respect for Frank, the scholar turned addict. Despite his stint as a narcotics detective, Goren was able to get past Frank's drug addiction and see the brother who—though little more than a child himself—had raised him.

"So why do we end up fighting every time he comes to town?"

"Because I don't like what happens to you every time he shows up. Trouble just seems to follow him around and he drags you down with him every time." She turned her head to look at him. "But why does it matter what I think?"

His expression morphed from anger into surprise. "Why does it matter? Because you matter...to me. Your opinion is very important to me, and I don't like that you think...well, less of me because I love my brother."

She stopped in her tracks. "Less of you? Bobby, I don't think less of you for that. I just worry that you're going to get into trouble I can't get you out of. For as long as we've been partners, Frank has been bad news."

He turned to face her, but he didn't say anything. She met his eyes, but wasn't able to interpret his expression. So she moved a step closer and reached out to lay her hand on his chest. He didn't move away.

He was surprised that she reached out to touch him. When her hand came to rest on his chest, he felt a warmth spread from the point of contact. His legs and arms felt numb and he couldn't look away from her. She did have a valid point, and he now understood why she got so upset every time he and Frank got into trouble. Admittedly, she didn't seem to get so bent out of shape when he talked to his brother. As far as she knew, Frank only came to town once every eighteen months or so, but that wasn't the case. Frank lived in Atlantic City, and he came to visit about every six months. Goren went to visit him just as often. So they usually stayed out of trouble, but he didn't like talking about his personal life with anyone, and he liked discussing his brother even less for the arguments to which it always led. He didn't correct her misconception. Tilting his head to one side, he said, "I guess part of that is my fault. I could be more careful. But...it's easier for you to blame Frank than for you to blame me, right?"

She nodded, not moving her hand. "Yes, it is. I don't enjoy being upset with you."

He placed his hand over hers. "It's no picnic for me, either."

Several other pedestrians walked by them, although none of them paid attention to the couple until a little boy, about three years old, ran into Bobby's leg, bounced off and fell onto his butt in the middle of the sidewalk. The spell between the two detectives was broken, and Eames withdrew from him. He turned toward the child and leaned down, helping him to his feet.

"What are you doing to my son?!" a woman screeched as she came out of a nearby store and saw Goren with his hand on the boy's shoulder.

Goren gestured defensively, not removing his hand from the child when he felt the boy cringe at the sound of his mother's shrill voice. "He fell," he explained. "I was only helping him up."

"What are you? Some kind of pervert?"

He fished his badge out of his pocket and held it up for her to see. "No. Actually, I'm a police officer."

That information changed the woman's tone dramatically. "Oh. I'm sorry, officer. Did he bother you?"

"No, ma'am. He's fine."

She took the little boy's arm, grasping her shopping bag in her other hand. "Come along, Jeremy. Let's not bother the nice policeman any longer."

They watched the woman hurry off, dragging the boy along with her. "Nice lady," muttered Eames. "She pays no attention to her son until she finds out you're a cop. Then she's the mother of the year."

Goren laughed softly, and they continued walking down the sidewalk. Eames had successfully managed to lighten his mood, although it slipped a few notches when his mind returned to his mother. She noticed the change and took a small chance. Since he had not objected to her hand on his chest, she reached out to him again and touched his hand as they walked, making sure he could easily pull away. Although he hesitated, he didn't pull away. Instead, he accepted her hand in his and she took a sideways step closer to him as they walked. "Tell me what happened when your mother disappeared," she said.

She felt him tense, but he still didn't pull away from her. She had asked him the same thing several times before, but he always refused to talk about it, even when he'd been drinking. The circumstances, however, made him more open to the discussion.

His hand tightened around hers and he bit down on his lower lip before he began to talk. "I was twelve, and it was in the spring. I was in the seventh grade. I was late getting home from school, and I expected her to be mad at me, so I stopped at Lewis' house. His folks both worked, so he was the only one home. We, uh, we raided his dad's liquor cabinet, and I had a couple of drinks, so that it wouldn't hurt so much when she beat me for being late. He promised to sneak over later with a pint of something, you know, in case the whiskey wasn't enough." He reached up and loosened his tie, undoing to top button of his shirt. He didn't release her hand. "When I got home, she wasn't there. I thought she'd had a breakdown and was at the hospital and I figured Frank was with her. So I went back to Lewis'. When I got home again, the police were there, and I got scared that Mom had just been out to the store or something and she'd called them when I didn't come home. So I had this story in my head to tell her, and I knew she wouldn't hit me while the cops were there, but...she wasn't home. Frank had called them. He'd gone out with a couple of buddies and his girl, and when he got home Mom wasn't there and neither was I. He didn't know what to think. He called the hospital and when she wasn't there, he called the cops. When I came home, he was relieved, and he told the cops that Dad would be home soon and we'd be okay. He also told me to shut up when I started to argue with him because Dad had been gone for awhile. Finally, the cops left, and Frank told me that something had happened to Mom, but he didn't know what. A few days later, we realized the picture was missing, but that was it. Her clothes, her books...everything else was still there. But we never saw her again."

"How did Frank keep you out of foster care?"

"He learned to lie well. He faked our father's presence until he turned 18, and then he was appointed my guardian. As far as the authorities knew, Dad had only just left. He bluffed the cops every time they brought me home and he signed everything with Dad's name. We managed. It was just him and me for six years, until I graduated from high school and turned eighteen."

She squeezed his hand and asked, "When did he start using drugs?"

"He was a casual user when Mom went missing, but he didn't get heavily into drugs until he was twenty-one or twenty-two. He always made sure I was someplace safe, like Lewis', when he went partying. Uh, the first time he got drunk, he was about twelve, and I think he first used pot around the same time. He didn't get stoned on harder drugs until he was fifteen. I started younger than he was, but I also got out of it and he never did. I, uhm, I caused a lot of trouble for Frank when I was a kid. I was very angry and kind of out of control. I was damn lucky I didn't end up in the system, and it was all because of Frank."

She already knew some of what he told her, and she knew that the two boys hadn't had it easy after their mom disappeared, but she hadn't realized just how difficult it had been for Frank. Goren's devotion to his brother was not misplaced. However, the tables were turned from when they were boys. Thirty-six years ago, her partner had been the trouble-maker and Frank the straight arrow, trying to keep his little brother out of trouble. Now it was Goren who was the straight one, although it seemed that when Frank got into trouble, Goren went right along with him. She wondered how much trouble he protected Frank from and how much trouble Frank dragged him into, but that wasn't a conversation she wanted to get into at the moment, knowing it was likely to lead to another argument.

"So now it's you keeping Frank out of the system?"

He shrugged. "I do what I can."

"How do you think he would feel if you lost your job because of him?"

He frowned. "I'm not going to lose my job."

She squeezed his hand tightly. "With Deakins gone, you don't know that. Bobby, the last time you got into trouble with him, it was serious. We had a hell of a time protecting you."

"Protecting me?"

That had been the wrong word to use, and he was getting angry again. When he started to pull away from her, she tightened her grip on his hand, reluctant to let him withdraw. "Why did you think we went out on a limb like we did every time?"

"I got along just fine before we...before I...moved to Major Case," he snapped.

She knew he was going to say 'before we became partners,' and, although he had censored himself, she was getting angry now, too. "Would you just listen for one damn minute? Drop the defensiveness and see that I only want to help you."

He settled down a little and stopped trying to pull away from her. She kept a tight grip on his hand, and he didn't say anything. Satisfied, she said, "Bobby, I care about you. I care what happens to you and I don't want to see you throw everything away because of the loyalty you feel for Frank. I can't believe he would want that, either—not if he loves you as much as you think he does. Do you understand that?"

His rage simmered just below the surface. "What do you want me to do? Abandon him like our mother did?"

She heard the anger that ran as an undercurrent through his words, and she tried to understand it. "Of course not. But don't throw away everything you've worked for all these years. You know, it is okay for you to watch out for yourself, to take care of your own life."

"Are you giving me permission, Eames?"

"Don't be an ass, Goren," she snapped, irritation finally getting the better of her.

She released his hand and walked away to avoid another full blown argument. She needed a few minutes away from him to calm down or she would say something she would regret. He stood there, watching her walk off, then he turned and walked in the other direction.


	5. Turmoil

When Eames returned to the place she'd last seen her partner, she wasn't surprised to find no trace of him. She'd harbored no hope that he would have stayed put and waited for her. As emotionally unstable as he was, she was hard-pressed to predict what he might do. He had few coping mechanisms to which he could turn...legally. Her gut tightened, but if they'd been in the city, she would be a lot more nervous. Out on the far end of Long Island, she hoped his resources were limited.

The two things to which he was most likely to turn for comfort were alcohol and sex. He had a good head on his shoulders, but he could be reckless, especially when his emotions spiraled out of control. She stood on the corner and looked up and down the street. Since she hadn't passed him walking back to where she'd last seen him, she walked in the other direction, hoping she could find him. At the moment, concern eclipsed irritation and she was driven by worry, determined to find him before he got himself into trouble. She sent two text messages that went unanswered before she tried calling him. When the call went directly to voicemail, she realized he had turned off his phone. That was never a good sign.

She checked every bar she passed as she searched for him with no luck. She was just beginning to think about returning to the motel when she finally found him in a small bar and grill overlooking Fort Pond. It was by a stroke of sheer luck that she found him, not sure at all what made her check the place. It wasn't his normal venue. Perhaps that was why he'd chosen it.

She weaved her way through the dinner crowd to the small table on the patio where he sat, looking out across the pond. His eyes shifted from the water to her then back. She sat in the chair beside his, taking care not to block his view of the pond.

Goren didn't know how to react when Eames joined him. Part of him didn't want her to find him, but a larger part of him hoped she would. He had chosen the quaint little restaurant because it was dinnertime, and he knew she'd want something to eat, if she found him. At the same time, the place had a full bar, which was what he wanted. She would appreciate the view of the water, which he could take or leave, but he liked the breeze that blew in across the pond. He wasn't sure how she found him, but that wasn't what mattered to him. What mattered was that she had bothered to look at all, and that she kept looking because he certainly had not made it easy for her to find him. No other woman he knew would have bothered with him, but she did. Every time. She passed each and every test he threw at her, and she never let him down. He didn't know what to make of that because nothing in his life had prepared him for her devotion.

He finished his drink as the waitress approached. "Another?" she asked.

He nodded, and she looked at Eames. "Can I get you something?"

"Grilled trout with summer vegetables and a baked potato, please."

"And to drink?"

"Rum and coke."

The woman wrote her order on a pad and turned to leave, but Eames signaled her to wait. "You should eat," she said to her partner.

He didn't answer, so Eames took it upon herself to order for him. "Hot pastrami on rye with mashed potatoes."

With a nod, the waitress jotted down the order and walked away. Goren shifted his eyes back to her, pausing as he took a minute to focus. She reached out and rested her hand on the table. He glanced down at her hand, then back at her face. Releasing his glass, he laid his hand over hers, and her face relaxed. He felt calmer and finally trusted himself to speak. "I...I'm sorry," he said for lack of anything else to say.

He didn't know how to put into words the turmoil that raged inside him. She lightly stroked his thumb with hers and he closed his eyes. She wasn't helping.

"It's okay," she said softly as she leaned in so he could hear her. "Whatever you're feeling, it's okay."

He opened his eyes slowly, and the raw pain she saw in them stabbed her directly in the heart. Reaching out, she took a chance and stroked his face. He leaned into her touch. His eyes begged for help and she squeezed his hand. She would do whatever she could to help him get through this.

The waitress arrived with their meals, and she began to eat while he poked at his potatoes. She ordered a second drink but made no attempt to keep up with him. She tried to understand his upset and only attempted to coax him to eat once. She said nothing about his drink consumption, and he continued to drink until she finally decided it was time to go.

He didn't agree with her. He didn't feel close to numb enough to even try to face his turmoil. But he trusted her, and because of that trust, he left with her.

The walk back to the motel was silent. She didn't attempt any conversation because she knew he wasn't up for it yet. She also knew that he was reeling and he needed comfort, any comfort. So she reached out her hand to him, and he grabbed onto it without hesitation. Maybe he did so because he was drunk or maybe he wanted the comfort of contact with her. Maybe it was both. She didn't really care why he held her hand. She was reaching out to him and, even though he was lost, scrambling for purchase in a world turned upside down, he responded to her. In that, she felt reassurance and she gained confidence that he would let her help him—and that she could.

They made one stop at a liquor store that was on the way, and she didn't try to talk him out of it. He didn't really know of any other way to settle the racing thoughts in his head and calm his roiling emotions. If he was going to get any sleep at all, she had a feeling he would need a lot more to drink.

When she led him to the room she'd rented, he stopped on the threshold, looking at the numbers on the door. "Is this my room or yours?" he asked.

"Both. I didn't think you needed to be alone tonight."

He stood there a minute longer, staring at the numbers, before he sighed and entered the room. He had not realized she'd only rented one room, but he didn't have the emotional energy to argue with her about it. He sat down on the bed closest to the window.

Tentatively, she sat beside him. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to focus on the swimming sensation in his head instead of on the woman sitting beside him on the bed. When she took his hand again, his attention shifted away from himself and he became acutely aware of her—disturbingly so. He felt her presence beside him, smelled the light scent of her soap and shampoo, and his head spun even more. He tightened his hand around hers. "So...what now?" he whispered. "I...I don't know where to go with this. I don't know how to handle it."

"I'll help you," she said intensely, squeezing his hand.

He slowly opened his eyes and looked at her. Suddenly, he got to his feet, moving a little too quickly. He stumbled sideways a couple of steps before catching his balance. She grabbed his arm to steady him, then released him as he began to pace like a caged animal.

"How, Eames?" he demanded as his grip on his emotions began to slip. "How can you possibly help me?"

She forced herself to ignore his tone, silently reminding herself that he was in a fragile state. "Will you let me try?" she asked.

He stopped, catching himself when he swayed a little too far to the left. Turning to face her, he growled, "_How?_ How the hell can you help me? What can you possibly do?"

Rising, she walked to him and placed her hands flat against his chest. "Let me try," she implored.

He met her eyes and felt some of his irritation fade. "Okay," he said more calmly but still filled with challenge. "Go ahead and give it a shot, if you think you can do any good. Go on, Eames. Help me."

She could tell from his tone that he didn't believe she could do him any good, but he was at least willing to listen and maybe even to give her a chance.

"The first thing you need to do is identify what you're feeling."

He tossed his hands in the air and moved away from her. "If I could do that, I wouldn't be such a hot damn mess!" he declared.

Undeterred, she pressed on. "Okay, you're angry. We've already established that. But that can't be the only thing you feel."

He waved his hand in the air. "How am I supposed to sift through all of this? Everything is all jumbled together. I...I _can't_ sort it out...I...I just, I'm no good at it..."

He sat down on the other bed and buried his head in his arms. His pain distressed her. She'd never seen him hurt so much. Slowly, she sat beside him and gently rubbed his back. "Betrayed," she said softly.

He raised his head and looked at her. "What?"

"Betrayed," she repeated. "You feel betrayed...and abandoned...and confused...and very hurt."

He stared at her. "How...how do you know what I feel?" he asked, but there was no venom in his tone.

To her ear, it sounded more like wonder. He didn't understand how she could possibly know what he was feeling but, incredibly, she did.

"I know because that's how I would feel," she said as she continued to rub her hand over his back.

For the first time, he was able to take comfort, real comfort, from the sensation of her touch. "What else would you feel?" he asked as he began to compartmentalize the emotions she identified.

"Grief."

"Why grief?" he asked, not sure that particular emotion was there.

"Because of the loss you experienced when she left. That's been resurrected, and you resent it because you thought you'd already dealt with it."

He stared at her. "You...You're good at this," he said in awe.

She smiled. "I understand, even if I've never been through the same thing."

He shifted closer to her, relieved that she didn't move away. "Why...I mean...how...how could she...just leave us? I was twelve, Alex. I was just a kid."

The earnest pain in his voice touched her heart. "I don't know, Bobby," she answered. "I really don't know, because if I had a child, if I ever have a child, I will cherish him for all I'm worth. I'll keep him close and love him forever."

His expression turned sad. "Why couldn't my mother feel that way? Wasn't I...good enough for her?"

"Try not to blame yourself," she said, trying to put into her tone what she felt in her heart. "It wasn't you. She was sick. That has to be why she left."

"But...But she's been...here, and in Manhattan, all these years, and she never made contact. I...I don't...I don't understand."

She reached out and gently wiped a stray tear from his cheek. Embarrassed, he got to his feet quickly, tumbling into the wall as he did. She went after him this time, grabbing his arm and saying his name. He turned suddenly, pulling her against him. There was so much emotion in his eyes she couldn't identify any of it. He continued to look at her, and then he leaned down, still holding her close, and he kissed her. Entirely overwhelmed, she slid her arms around his neck, and she kissed him back.


	6. Spiraling Emotions

The kiss was overwhelming for each of them. His hands slid down her back and settled on the round curve of her butt. She grunted softly and tightened her arms around his neck. He pulled her closer. She made another soft noise and he felt his control begin to slip. He slowly withdrew from the kiss while he still could.

Swallowing her disappointment, she looked into his eyes. There she saw uncertainty amid the maelstrom of other emotions. The kiss was impulsive, his way of seeking a salve for his wounded soul. It had worked for as long as the kiss had lasted, but now he was unsure. He didn't quite know what to do.

Eames, however, knew that somehow she had to calm him, and it wasn't going to be easy. She also had to be very careful not to get further entangled in his emotions. The kiss could be damaging enough. If she let it progress further, the damage could be irreparable.

Her first instinct in allowing the kiss had been protective. She knew that he couldn't handle another rejection from a woman for whom he cared deeply. But then she'd become caught up in his intensity and drawn in by his emotions. She didn't know what it meant, but she knew she had done the right thing. The question was what to do next without complicating things further.

When she saw the confusion on his face, her heart melted again. She reached up and laid her hand on his cheek. He hesitated, then his face relaxed and he leaned into her touch, reassured.

She was doing all the right things, but he wasn't sure that he was. His mind was slow to catch up with his actions, and he suddenly realized just what he had done. He'd kissed his partner. _Kissed_ her! What was _wrong_ with him?

With a groan of despair, he stepped away from her, and she let him go, watching as he resumed his pacing. He waved a hand in the air, deeply agitated. "See what happens when I let my emotions take over? I have no idea how to keep them in line!"

"Bobby, come over here and sit down."

He shook his head, not trusting himself to be near her. Sleeping in the car was becoming an increasingly attractive option for him until she said two words that he could not discount. "Trust me."

He hesitated for a moment longer before he did as she asked, but he sat well away from her.

She moved closer and reached out to him. Lightly, she touched his temple, and he felt fire in his gut. The kiss had sent his emotions spiraling in a completely different direction, complicating everything. He had now run through the gamut of every emotion he'd ever felt and he was exhausted. She traced a tender circle on his temple and she softly asked, "What's going on in there?"

"You name it, it's there," he answered, his face softening when she smiled. "Why did you let me do that?"

She took a moment to process his question. He had been testing her again, at least at first. He expected her to reject his kiss, but when she didn't, it became something more. Now neither of them knew what was going on between them. Everything had changed.

"Why did you do it?" she replied.

He hated having a question answered with another question, but hers was legitimate. He wasn't sure how to proceed. There was so much to process. Although the kiss felt...right, he was beginning to question both his timing and his motivation. He was drunk, but the kiss, although ill-advised now that he thought about it, was sincere. He wondered if he would have done it had he been completely sober. Probably not. His wandering thoughts returned to her question and he tried to find an answer. He couldn't.

"I don't know," he answered.

"You were testing me," she challenged.

His brow furrowed as he considered that. He had not consciously been testing her, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that she was right. On some level, in many different ways, he had been testing her for the past seven years, especially when he'd been drinking. The kiss was no different. "I...I didn't mean..." he trailed off.

She was now caressing the side of his face, and he felt himself settling. As he began to relax, he felt everything catching up to him: the alcohol, the emotions, the overwhelming stress of the entire day.

She watched his eyes begin to get heavy and she tried to coax him to lay down on the bed, but he resisted. She sat beside him in silence, seeking some means to reassure him that wasn't likely to escalate. The line she walked between reassuring him and misleading him was very fine.

"You didn't..." he said softly, drawing her from her thoughts.

When he didn't complete his thought, she asked, "I didn't what?"

"Reject me."

"No, I didn't."

"Why not?"

"Bobby, you're really not the train wreck you seem to think you are."

His expression turned sour and she saw the seeds of doubt in his eyes when he turned his head to look at her. "You're not serious. Do you know me at all?"

"You have been testing me for years," she retorted, trying to regain the progress she'd just lost. "Have I ever failed any test you've thrown my way?"

His doubt was increasing. "Did you know it was a test?"

She shook her head. "Not until I thought about it."

"So why...why didn't you call me out on it or slap me or something? Why did you let me do it?"

"You didn't realize it was a test either, did you?"

He shook his head. "No. Not until you brought it up."

"So why did you kiss me?"

That was a good question and the answer surprised even him. "I...I just wanted to feel something...good."

It was one of the most honest answers he had ever given her. "And what did you feel?" she wondered.

As his mind drifted back, his body reacted to the memory. Whatever he felt, it was good and he wanted to feel it again. His hand slid onto her thigh and he slowly moved toward her. As she met his eyes and began to lean toward him, he raised his other hand, sliding his fingers into her hair and guiding her into another kiss. They could analyze it later.

Eames broke the kiss this time, before it got out of hand. With all he was going through at the moment, the very last thing either one of them needed was to completely obscure already cloudy and troubled waters. He was drunk and his head was an emotional mess. She didn't want to contribute any more to it than she already had. She'd promised to help him work through it and figure it all out. She couldn't do that if she became part of the problem.

She sat back away from him, but maintained physical contact with a hand gently grasping his. He watched her from under heavy lids. The alcohol was reaching full effect and heavy emotions continued to weigh him down. His tie was long gone, tucked into the pocket of his suit coat, which was draped over a chair on the other side of the room. She slowly unbuttoned his shirt, and his unfettered mind skittering off in all directions. She helped him off with the shirt, but when his hands moved toward his belt she grabbed them gently. "Not tonight," she said softly, with regret.

Sex had always been a tool for him, a way to calm his body and his mind when he was troubled. She didn't want to become part of his toolbox. If anything was ever going to happen between them, she wanted it to be more, to mean something.

He settled his hands on his lap and studied her. He saw her regret. It wasn't no; she wasn't rejecting him. She'd made a difficult decision that was best for them, and she'd done it the right way. 'Not tonight' meant 'maybe tomorrow.' It meant 'yes, I'm interested but this isn't a good time' and 'maybe we'll try this again when you're sober.' It meant he had a chance with her, if he still wanted one after he'd sobered. He'd been let down much more harshly in the past, and not always with the promise of another chance. Most of all, though, it meant he hadn't destroyed their relationship.

He dropped backwards onto the bed, which made his head spin wildly. He grinned at her. She smiled back and his grin widened. When he started to laugh, she laughed with him and they fed off each other for a few minutes. He settled slowly, out of breath as his head continued to spin pleasantly, his turmoil momentarily shoved onto a back burner to simmer until morning. As he caught his breath and his body calmed, his mind also settled under a hazy, alcoholic blanket. He grasped her hand. This was the point where he usually undressed and chased a woman around the sheets, but that wasn't going to happen tonight, and he was okay with it. She'd made the right decision for both of them.

"One more kiss?" he asked, fading faster than he realized.

She met his sleepy gaze and felt her heart flutter. She leaned down and gave him a soft kiss. What she intended as a brief, gentle kiss, however, became much more. When their lips met, something changed for them. The kiss intensified quickly, engulfing them in the hot flames of burning passion. Neither had the will to end it until he slipped his hands under her shirt. Without her full consent, her body shifted toward his hands and reason finally tunneled its way free, emerging singed but intact in her conscious mind.

Gently, she grasped his wrists and withdrew from the intense kiss. He didn't fight her, but he made a quiet sound of protest. She risked one more quick kiss of reassurance, although she wanted more. "You know we can't," she whispered, her voice hoarse with need. "Not tonight. Not like this."

His body was on fire and he couldn't remember ever wanting a woman more, but her words broke through the fog of desire that engulfed his mind, and he knew she was right. They both knew that it wouldn't take much pushing from either one to tumble them over the edge, but that wasn't the way they wanted it to happen, if it was going to happen at all. Their relationship deserved more respect than that. Knowing that this might possibly be their only chance, good sense demanded that they let it pass unfulfilled. The right thing to do wasn't always the easy thing to do.

Her fingers lightly traced random patterns on his chest and she watched him as he drifted to sleep. When he began to softly snore, she moved over to the other bed. She wished the night could turn out differently, but she knew that it could not. When the sun came up and Goren sobered, it was likely that he would see things in a different light, and she would forever mourn the passing of what could have been but sadly might never be.

Sleep was a long time coming.


	7. The Morning After

Goren woke to a headache and an uncomfortably sick stomach. The bottle of scotch he'd purchased after dinner remained untouched, thanks to Eames. He looked over at the other bed. It was empty. His memories of the night before were hazy, except for one, and he didn't know what to do with that one. He had kissed his partner. What the hell had he been thinking? Did he really feel the need to continue testing a woman who had risen to every challenge? No one in his life was more important to him, except maybe his brother. Why did he continue to risk chasing her away?

He looked at the scotch bottle he'd set on the nightstand the night before, considering the whiskey when he suddenly realized that he hadn't been alone in that kiss. She had not only let him kiss her, she had kissed him back. He didn't know what to make of that. Had she done that to distract him from the shock of discovering that his mother was not only alive, but living another life in which he and Frank had no place? Was that her way of helping him through his troubles?

Fortunately for him, the door opened at that moment and she came into the room, carrying two take out boxes. "Good morning," she said with a smile. "How do you feel?"

"How do you think I feel?" he answered, falling back on irritation since he didn't know how he was feeling—or what to make of their encounter the night before.

She recognized another challenge in his tone and she ignored it, handing him one of the boxes. "You should eat."

His stomach lurched at the thought of food and he set the box aside, watching her sit across from him on the other bed and dig in to her breakfast. How could she act so casual? "Eames..." he began, then trailed off because he didn't know what to say.

She looked at him at him expectantly. "Yes?"

"Don't you remember..." he paused, still not knowing what to say, and then feeling foolish. Of course she remembered. She'd been the sober one, the one who ultimately put the brakes on his impulsive recklessness. She was his reality check. So why didn't she think it was as big a catastrophe as he did? Why wasn't she furious with him? She should have driven back to the city and left him stranded in Montauk. It was the least he deserved.

"Remember what?" she asked. "Me trying to calm you down after you thought you found your mother or you getting trashed?"

Did she still not believe that Sutter's wife was his mother? "Do you think I made that up?" he asked, hurt and anger flaring in his chest.

"It's not that, Bobby," she assured him. "I'm sure you believe she is your mother. But it's been thirty years."

"Why would she have a picture with Frank and me on her mantle, Eames?"

"Could it possibly be a picture of two other boys that happen to look like you and Frank? Or maybe she's a relative and your mother gave her the picture before she went missing. Maybe she had no idea how to find you back then. There are other, more likely explanations that you haven't even considered."

She was right. Had his meltdown been for nothing? Was he overreacting? Had everything that happened the night before been in his head? Had it all been a dream, fueled by the possibility that longing and desire could be fulfilled? "I, uh...did I...did I behave myself?"

Her confidence faltered, but she recovered quickly. Did he not remember what had happened? She didn't know what to feel about that. Relief? Regret? She did know that she would have to proceed very carefully or she would risk destroying their relationship. "Why would you think you didn't?" she asked, her tone guarded.

He didn't know how to answer her. He didn't want her to think he didn't remember it if it had happened, but he also didn't want her to know what his mind had conjured if it hadn't. He touched his jaw, looking for a bruise and not finding one. If he'd actually kissed her, wouldn't she have slugged him? And he was still half dressed. If he'd kissed her, as drunk as he'd been, he would never have stopped at just that. But she had been sober...would she have stopped him? Would he have respected that? Of course he would have because he respected her. He had no way of knowing what had actually happened and what had been a dream without asking her, but how did he ask _that_? 'I beg your pardon, but I was trashed last night. Did I get into your pants?' If she hadn't punched him for kissing her, she certainly would if he did and didn't remember, or if he didn't and admitted that he thought of her _that_ way. He couldn't win.

Eames watched him struggle with himself and she knew what was going through his head. He did remember the night before. He just wasn't sure it had been real and he didn't know how to react. What she wasn't sure of was how he felt about it. How would he react if he knew for certain he had kissed her? Would he welcome the possibilities that opened or be appalled at himself for being so forward with her? Would her reaction affect his or would he be angry at her for letting it happen? She could envision both scenarios with equal clarity. Neither was more likely than the other.

"I, uh, I know how I can be. I...I'm..."

"Stop right there, Goren. If that's an apology coming, you'd better think twice about it. If you want to discuss what happened, that's fine, but if you're going to apologize for it, it's a long walk home."

He stared at the floor between the two beds. "I...uhm...n-now what?"

"Now we eat breakfast. What happens with us depends on you. We can just forget it ever happened, chalk it up to a drunk encounter and pick up where we were before. Or you can kiss me again and we can explore that path. It's whatever you want to do, Bobby, whatever you're okay with."

She was placing the fate of their personal relationship in his hands, and he wasn't entirely comfortable with that responsibility. He sat in silence, watching her pick up her container and resume eating, trying to hide the shaking of her hands. His life had suddenly become very complicated—and very simple. Without saying a word, he got up.

She expected him to leave the room, to wander the town, thinking about what she said. She did not expect him to make a decision right away, so when he took her breakfast and moved it to the nightstand, she looked up in surprise.

As she turned her head up, he leaned down and he kissed her again, this time with confidence. If she was going to leave it in his hands, dammit, he was going to act on what he felt, what he had been feeling for a long time. She made a soft noise into his mouth as he lowered her back onto the bed.

When he pulled back from the kiss, he smiled at her expression. She laid her hand on the side of his face. "Are you sure about this?" she asked.

He nodded. "Are you?"

"I would never have offered if I wasn't."

"Are you okay with taking it slow?"

"I think that's the second best decision you've made today."

He stretched out beside her with his arm around her waist and kissed the side of her head. "When you said you wanted to help me, I never suspected you had ulterior motives."

She poked him in the stomach and he laughed. But he quickly sobered when he remembered exactly why they were there and what had caused his meltdown the night before. He pressed his head against hers and whispered, "I haven't resolved anything, Eames."

"And you won't, not in one night. Probably not in a hundred nights. But you've taken the first step. You've acknowledged your feelings."

"Kind of. All we've really established is that I'm angry."

"You also acknowledged the other emotions you're feeling."

"I don't remember that."

"Then let's do it again."

"I...I don't know if I want to do that."

"Bobby, you have to."

"No, I don't."

She gave him an exasperated look. "Yes, you do."

"Do you have any idea how frightening that is for me?"

"What do you have to be scared of? I promised I would help you."

"Suppose what you find scares you away?" he asked. "I-I can't...I can't do it."

She stroked his temple. "There's nothing in here that I can't face."

"How can you say that when there's stuff in there that _I_ can't face? Maybe I'm not the man you think I am."

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe you're more than the man you think you are?"

"All right, Eames," he said, trying not to feel angry. "What am I feeling?"

She turned onto her side. "You tell me."

He fell silent, his eyes traveling over her face as he tried to sort through his emotions. "I feel a little bit of everything, I think."

"Putting a name to each emotion is the first step in identifying them and conquering them."

"Put a name to the face of your enemy."

"Exactly. But first you have to get past the anger."

"I don't know if I can do that."

"Tell me why."

He slipped his hand under the hem of her shirt and lightly caressed her side as he spoke, the direct physical contact helping him to stay focused. "I was twelve," he began. "I don't remember much about the years before. I blocked out a lot. But I do remember...she...she used to read to me. She read _Tom Sawyer_ and _The 1001 __Arabian Nights_ and _Treasure Island._ Only the classics, which she always encouraged me to read. 'They're timeless, Bobby,' she used to say. 'They're the doorway to another world.' After she left, I buried myself in books. Everything from _The Wizard of Oz_ and _Alice in Wonderland_ to the _Little House_ books and _The Chronicles of Narnia_. As a teenager, I read Camus and Plato, Hitler and Marx, Freud, Nietzsche and Jung. I read anything I could get my hands on because books made me feel closer to her. When she left, I felt so lost. It's been thirty-two years and I still don't understand why. I've never been able to get past it and move on. Frank tried to convince me that she was dead, that nothing else could explain why she abandoned us, but I-I always had...doubts. You know? No body, no crime. So I couldn't put away the hurt. Frank tried to get me past it, but I resisted. The only time we fought was when he tried to convince me to get over her. I broke his nose once, and he gave me more than one black eye. We're brothers. Brothers are supposed to fight and we sure did. But he was also my parent and my best friend. He made sure I ate right and that I was safe at night. He got me medicine when I was sick and he sat up with me when I couldn't sleep. When I got trashed, he made sure I didn't go too far and he gave me grief when I was hungover. He talked me out of trouble when the police brought me home and when the principal called because I was fighting or I didn't do my work. Whatever you see in him now, he was what I needed him to be after Mom left. He didn't abandon me."

It seemed very important to him that she not hate Frank, and she resolved to make an effort. Tenderly, she played with his hair. "I understand," she promised. "Now tell me how you feel about possibly finding her."

"Confused," he admitted. "Mostly I feel confused...and angry...and hurt. I want to know what happened, why she did what she did."

His headache was fading. When she rolled onto her back, he rested his head against her shoulder. She continued to stroke his hair and he caressed her abdomen. "Do you remember what I said?"

"Uh, remind me."

"Do you think I can help you?"

He placed a kiss just below her collarbone. "You already have."

She didn't know what to say in answer to that. He was desperate to feel loved, and she had given him that, but now she questioned her timing. While it was tremendously good for him, at least at the moment, she wondered if it would last. Would a fledgling relationship survive the oncoming storm?

"Grief," she whispered. "Can you feel the grief?"

"Grief? No. That passed long ago."

"What about betrayal? Abandonment? Curiosity?"

Slowly, he nodded. "Yes, I feel those. But most of all, I feel anger. That overwhelms everything else. I always come back to one question, Eames. Why? Why did she leave us? How could she abandon her children?"

"I don't have an answer for that."

"Because it isn't something you are capable of. Family is important to you, above all else, and if you're ever blessed with a child, that child will be cherished and know it."

For a minute she wondered if he remembered their discussion the night before. Then she realized that whether he did or not, he knew her well enough to know how much she would adore a child. He had seen the grief she felt as she handed over the child to whom she had given birth to her sister. He knew the emptiness that plagued her after his birth, an emptiness that still lingered.

They were both quiet after that, and she felt his head grow heavy against her shoulder. His hand stilled on her belly and his breathing evened out. She continued to stroke his hair and he drifted deeper into sleep. Soon she, too, dozed.


	8. Anger and the Truth

Eames was alone in the bed when she woke. Rolling over, she looked at the time. Almost 2. They had to get going. She got up, glad she had showered earlier. She heard him moving around in the bathroom as she packed her overnight bag. A girl never knew when she would need a fresh change of clothes. She didn't know what his excuse was.

He came out of the bathroom, tying his tie, and he stopped when he saw that she was awake. His hair was damp but he was clean-shaven. He looked very...together. She smiled, and he gave her a bashful grin in return. She loved that smile. She approached him and gently snugged his tie against his collar. "Are you ready for this?" she asked as she smoothed his tie against his shirt, enjoying the feel of his muscles as she did.

"I don't know," he answered, gently closing his hand around hers.

"I'll be with you. It'll be okay," she promised.

He didn't look convinced, so she leaned up and lightly kissed him. Releasing her hand, he placed his hands on her waist and looked into her eyes. "Alex," he said softly. "Earlier, you said that this—" He moved his hand back and forth between them. "Whatever _this_ is that's between us—is up to me, whatever I want to do about it."

"That's right."

"Can you really just call last night a drunk encounter and then move on as though nothing had happened?"

"If I have to, yes, I can."

"But..I...I can't. And what about you and what you want? It hasn't been _that_ long since I was in a relationship. I know that it involves two people, and if the needs of one are discounted in favor of the other...it'll never work."

"If you can't handle it, then there is nothing to work."

He shook his head. "But...it's-it's about you, too." He gently played with her hair. "I...I can't forget that it happened. I don't want to forget it. If it's okay with you, I would like to play this out and see where it goes. I think—I hope—it will be incredible...because you are incredible." He framed her face with his hands. "I'm a lucky man, if you'll have me."

She gave him a tender smile and nodded against his hands. "I don't want to forget it happened, either," she said softly. "And I would love to see where this takes us. I think it will be amazing."

Slowly, he nodded. "Yeah, it will. It has to be...because it's been so...so long in coming."

He kissed her warmly. When he broke the kiss, he didn't open his eyes. He pressed his forehead against hers and savored the moment, committing it to memory as the one moment of his adult life when he was truly happy.

With deep reluctance, she whispered, "It's time to go."

He waited for another minute, savoring her closeness before he moved past her and pulled on his suit coat. She felt badly for him, but she didn't know how she could make it better. She _couldn't_ make it better. All she could do was be there for him, and she hoped it would be enough.

* * *

Eames stopped the car outside the Sutter residence and shut off the engine. She looked at her partner, who was staring at the house. She waited until he finally looked at her. "Ready?" she asked.

He took a deep breath and nodded. "As ready as I'll ever be, I guess."

She reached out and grasped his hand. Without looking away, he squeezed her hand, gratitude in his eyes. She acknowledged him with a brief nod and they got out of the car.

Sutter met them at the door. "Come in, detectives," he said.

The colonel looked like he had not slept. He led them to the same sitting room they had been in the day before and motioned for them to sit down. They sat beside each other on an antique settee and he sat in a wing chair across from them. "I'm glad you came back," he said as he looked at Goren. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't."

"Why would you think that?" Goren asked.

"You were very upset yesterday, and rightly so."

Goren looked at Eames, then frowned at the colonel. "What do you mean by that?"

Sutter reached out and picked up a picture from the table beside the chair on which he was sitting. He handed it to Goren, who looked at it and almost dropped it before handing it to Eames with shaking hands. It was an old photo showing the same woman from the picture he had seen the previous afternoon. She was holding an infant in her arms and she looked radiantly happy. Goren looked at the colonel, but said nothing.

"What's your name, son?" Sutter asked.

"Goren, sir. Robert Goren."

"You have an older brother?"

"Yes, sir. Frank."

"Dear God," Sutter whispered. "I am so sorry, my boy. I am so deeply sorry."

Goren began to get worried, and he looked at Eames for a second. Then he returned his attention to the colonel. "F-For what, colonel?"

"I didn't know," Sutter insisted. "I had no idea you boys were still alive. She...She told me you were dead, and I believed her. I should have known better. I should have looked for you. I started to. Honestly, I did, but she got so upset. I assumed at the time it was because she was still reeling from her loss, and maybe she was. In her mind, she truly believed you boys were dead."

"I-I don't understand."

"You know that she's sick, don't you?"

"Yes, sir. Schizophrenia. She was diagnosed when I was seven."

"How old were you when she left?"

"Twelve."

"So you were put into foster care?"

"No. My brother took care of me, of both of us."

"Frank...he was how old?"

"When she left? Fifteen."

"That's a lot of responsibility on shoulders so young. And you...how hard it must have been for your young mind to comprehend. I would have taken you both in, raised you as my own, if I had known. But Frankie never gave me the chance. I, also, was a victim of her delusion, and I believed her grief when she mourned her loss."

"You had no obligation toward us, Colonel Sutter. The obligation was hers and she walked out on us. I came home from school one day and she was just gone. Maybe she couldn't take...my misbehavior any more..."

"Bobby," Eames said softly.

"No," he insisted. "I was a difficult kid, and I didn't get any better as time went on. Ask my brother how many times the cops dragged me home, how often I defied curfew, how many rules I broke, just for the hell of it. I was nothing but trouble. She was lucky she escaped when she did because I only got worse."

"That would not have happened if I'd known about you boys."

"No? What fantasy world do you live in, Colonel Sutter?"

"Bobby..." she repeated, keeping her voice soft.

Sutter waved a hand in the air. "It's all right, Detective Eames. He has every right to be angry—at his mother, at me, at life and the world for failing him repeatedly. How did you cope with it, son? Alcohol? Drugs? Sex? Those are the tools of teen rebellion. They are means of coping that you still fall back on, don't you?"

Goren rubbed his jaw, keeping his agitation under control. "More or less. What are you looking for, colonel? Some kind of prize? What you find might surprise you."

The colonel studied the younger man intently, with an eye that knew people, that knew young men. "I'm not so sure any of it would surprise me, my boy."

Eames could feel the rage simmering inside her partner, roiling dangerously just below the surface. It was an explosive rage, but the greater danger existed in trying to control it. Goren knew better, yet he continued to try and he got burnt every time. But Eames understood why he continued to try, and she respected him more for it. She shifted her body closer to him, bringing her thigh into contact with his, and he calmed a little.

Sutter also saw the rage in his wife's son, and he understood it. In a calm voice, he explained, "When I met her, she was experiencing a psychotic break. She wandered into one of my stores and tried to steal a statue. When I confronted her, she attacked me with it. I was going to call the police, but something stopped me. I took her to the hospital instead. There was something about her that drew me in, and I began to visit her in the hospital. Two years later, we were married."

"Did she remember us? Did she know that she abandoned two young sons?"

Sutter read the hesitation in Goren's voice, and he did his best to reassure him. "She always told me you and your brother died in a house fire. I started to look into it but part of me was afraid to learn the details. I was afraid that you boys had died in a fire she had set, so I never looked into it any further."

"She, uh, she never had regular psychiatric care. We couldn't afford it, especially after my father left. I guess it was too much for her, raising two kids all on her own."

"I made certain she got the care she needed. Even with that, though, she has had occasional breakdowns. In fact, that's where she is now, in the hospital. They're planning to release her in a couple of days."

"She..." Goren hesitated. "Has she been...happy...with you, colonel?"

"Yes, son. Despite her illness, I have managed to make her happy."

That was something that Goren and his brother had never been able to do. His emotions were starting to get away from him again and he didn't know how to reel them in. A cold sweat broke out across his brow and he was pale.

"Have you talked to your brother?"

Goren looked at Eames as he shook his head. "No, not yet. I-I wasn't completely certain. I wanted to talk to you first."

Sutter nodded understanding. "I will tell Frankie about you while she's still in the hospital, even though it may prolong her stay. Surprises are not good for my wife."

'I don't like them much myself." He paused. "Are you sure you want to tell her at all?"

Sutter looked surprised. It had not occurred to him not to tell his wife that her sons still lived. "I think she should know, don't you?"

Goren looked at Eames again. She had no idea what he was thinking. He looked back at Sutter. "It's been thirty-two years, colonel. Maybe it's best to let sleeping dogs lie."

The colonel shook his head. "I don't believe that. I think it's something she needs to know."

When Goren didn't answer, Sutter opened a drawer in the table beside him and took out a pad of paper and a pen. He jotted a number on the paper and handed it to Goren. "Talk to your brother, then give me a call. I will confer with her doctors before I tell her, but I will tell her. She might not be responsible for her actions but I think she needs to know that her sons are alive and well."

Goren slipped the paper into his pocket as they all stood up. "'Well' is a relative term, Colonel Sutter."

The colonel's expression was sad. "I wish I had known," he repeated.

Goren shrugged. "What's done is done and there's no changing it."

Sutter nodded, though not necessarily in agreement. "Uhm, do we have any grandchildren?"

Goren shook his head, his expression guarded. "No, sir. Neither of us has ever married."

As they walked toward the door, Sutter remembered the reason for their visit in the first place. "Annie Kim," he said. "Will you let me know what comes of your investigation?"

Goren looked at him as he nodded. "Uhm where were you two nights ago, colonel? Between the hours of ten P.M. and six A.M.?"

"I was here. My staff can verify that. Martha, my maid, is a very light sleeper, and her room is just down the hall. I would not have been able to leave without her hearing me, not that I would have tried. I was up at six; Veronica, the cook, made my breakfast. And Albert, my butler, has his room over the garage. I would never have been able to take the car out without him hearing me. I don't need an alibi, but I have one."

"Thank you, Colonel Sutter," Eames said as they got to the front door. "We will be in touch."

Sutter leaned on the open door and looked at them. "I hope so," he said.

Goren pulled a card and a pen from his pocket. He wrote on the back of the card and handed it to Sutter. Then he walked away without saying another word. When Eames turned to follow him, Sutter leaned forward and caught her arm. She turned back and saw the worry on the colonel's face. "Detective Eames, you will, you know, watch out for him?"

Eames thought she saw a flicker of honest concern nestled within some kind of sense of responsibility in the man's eyes. "Don't worry, Colonel Sutter. I'll take care of him."

He nodded with a flash of gratitude and she trotted to the car after her partner.


	9. Unraveling

Eames headed west, back toward the city. Her partner looked out the window, brooding. She allowed a half hour to pass in silence before she softly said his name. He turned his head slowly to look at her. "Do you think the colonel was genuine?" she asked, knowing better than to start off asking about him.

He nodded. He could tell when people were lying to him. "He was telling the truth. He didn't know that Frank and I were alive. I think...our lives would have been different if he had known about us. I wouldn't have grown up so...out of control. I would have had the discipline I needed, which was something Frank wasn't quite able to give me. Frank ran damage control. Colonel Sutter would have offered prevention. I would have rebelled, tested every limit, but I think he would have been up to the challenge,"

"How do you feel about that?"

He shrugged. "There's no changing it."

"I know, but I still want to know what you feel."

"I feel angry, Eames. I'm very angry."

She paused, then pressed a little harder. "What do you think about that fire story? Do you still believe that she intentionally abandoned you?"

"Intentional or not, she abandoned us, and I find that difficult to forgive. I believe the colonel. I believe that he was afraid to follow-up on her story out of fear that she was responsible in some way for killing us. That's legitimate. And it is possible that when she came out of her psychosis, she believed that her delusion was real. Psychotic delusions can seem very real. Some of them, like delusions of monsters or purple and green tigers, are easy enough to discount. But others, like a house fire that killed her children, are just as easily transitioned into memories. And her paranoia, the idea that 'they' were out to get her—and us...that was very real to her, too. It never mattered who 'they' were. I thought 'they' were real, too, that 'they' had finally gotten her, until Frank finally convinced me that 'they' had never existed in the first place."

She could not even imagine what his life must have been like, before and after his mother left. She never forgot the abuse he described for suspects, abuse that she had come to realize had been all too real. Any time she had asked him about it, he clammed up, but he was never quite able to hide the pain in his eyes that told her they were memories, not stories told to make a connection on the way to a confession. The connection he made was real. It took time before she learned to tell the difference between memories and stories, but eventually, she could. She finally knew some of his darkest secrets, and she never judged him for them. That meant something to him, although how much, she never knew. Her willingness to accept him and more, to love him, despite his considerable faults and flaws was something he still wasn't able to wrap his mind around.

"Say something, Eames," he insisted when she remained silent.

He needed to hear that she didn't condemn him for the sins of his parents, an irrational but very real fear he lived with every day. She sensed his need, something at which she had become adept. She reached toward him and tucked her hand into his. "You were just a child," she said softly, trying not to choke up because that would set him off. "You were never responsible for your mother's behavior. I know you grew up believing you had chased her away, but I can't believe that's true. You grew up to be a good man, a man any mother should be proud of."

"Any mother but mine," he grumbled, and she knew his mood had taken a dark turn.

So she left him alone to brood about his past, knowing if she didn't he would turn his mood on her.

* * *

When Eames pulled up in front of his apartment, she asked, "Do you want me to find a place to park?"

He shook his head. "Not tonight. I won't be good company. Besides, Frank might still be here."

She was not comforted by the thought that his brother might still be at his place. The last person he needed to be with was his brother. "If he's not here, are you going to call him?" she asked.

"Yes. He needs to know, don't you think?"

She heard the challenge in his tone but she didn't take it up. "Yes," she agreed. "He needs to know."

He got out of the car, slamming the door a little harder than necessary. She rolled down the window and called to him. He turned before stepping up onto the curb and looked at her. "I'll see you in the morning?" she asked, hating the hesitance in her question.

He studied her for a moment and his eyes softened. "I'll see you in the morning," he assured her. "Good night, Eames."

She watched him walk into the building before she drove away, hoping he would change his mind yet knowing he would not.

* * *

When she got home, she settled in before she called him. She could tell from his tone that his mood was a little better. "I wanted to make sure you were okay," she said after he answered.

"I'm fine," he replied.

"Was Frank still there?"

"No, he wasn't, so you can relax."

"Bobby..."

"It's okay. I don't expect you to change how you feel overnight. But I did talk to him."

"How did he take it?"

"About like I did. It's...hard."

She wanted to reassure him, to tell him she understood, but he wouldn't take that well and she didn't want to give him a reason to lash out at her. So instead, she said, "Let me know if there's anything I can do, okay?"

"Unless you have a time machine, I don't see what you can do," he snapped.

"Bobby..." she chastised gently.

He paused for a moment as he realized he wasn't being fair to her. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I, uhm, I appreciate the offer."

"Try to get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night, Eames."

She didn't feel any better when she hung up the phone.

* * *

The next morning, Eames went to work a little early, hoping to get in before he did. She felt a leaden weight form in the pit of her stomach when Ross came out of his office to tell her that Goren had called off.

She tried to concentrate on the case they were working, finding out where Annie Kim lived and who her roommate was. She also discovered where Morris Franklin lived and the hours he worked at the store. By lunchtime, she could no longer contain her concern, so she left the squad to check on her absent partner.

* * *

It took four rounds of knocking for Goren to answer the door. "I was about to use my key," she scolded softly, trying not to notice how utterly exhausted he looked.

He studied her until she became uncomfortable, then he stepped back to let her in the apartment. He glanced at the time. "You missed Frank by about an hour," he said.

She didn't try to hide it when she counted the empty beer bottles on the coffee table. _Eight_. "Are you...?"

She trailed off and he gathered up the bottles, taking them to the kitchen. She heard them clink together, and one of them broke, when he dropped them in his recycling can. He returned to the living room and motioned for her to sit down. "Those were from last night," he explained without guilt.

"Did they help you any?" she asked, not quite able to keep the testiness from her tone because she knew that she would have done him more good.

"I finally got to sleep about forty-five minutes ago. What do you think?"

She lost her patience. "Look, Goren," she snapped without sitting down. "I didn't do anything wrong, so stop taking this all out on me. I am trying to be supportive and understanding, but you're making it awfully damned hard. I'm going back to work."

He watched her turn on her heel and storm toward the door. She was almost there, reaching for the knob, when he softly called out to her. She paused, hand on the doorknob. She heard him move, sensed him directly behind her. His hands settled lightly on her waist and he leaned closer. She could smell the alcohol and cigarettes on his breath as he whispered, "You're right. I'm sorry."

She closed her eyes for a moment before she turned and stepped into his arms. As she stepped forward, she angled her face toward his and he leaned down to meet her, kissing her deeply as he folded his arms around her. She didn't need any other apology.

He withdrew from her slowly, leaving her breathless. He stepped out of her embrace and left her craving more of him. He was too tired and too hurt to notice his own yearning. She watched him retreat and drop down on the couch. She sat beside him, careful to keep her distance. She knew it was vital for her not to push too hard.

"So what did Frank have to say?" she asked.

He looked up at the sound of her voice. "Huh?"

"Frank? What did he have to say?"

"Oh, uh, not...not a lot right now. At first, he thought I was joking. Then, he knew I wasn't. He doesn't know what to think any more than I do. We'd both convinced ourselves that she was dead. That was the only way either of us could move on. He was more successful at it than I was. I kept revisiting the 'what if she's alive' scenario. He hasn't considered that since we were kids."

As he talked, she reached out and grasped his arm. When he finished what he was saying, she gently tugged and guided him down, drawing his head to her lap. He looked up at her with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. Slowly, she stroked his hair, watching his eyelids begin to droop. He forced them back open a couple of times before he finally surrendered to his fatigue and dozed off.

She continued to caress his hair for a long time before she finally slid out from under him and went back to work. She would return later. He was beginning to come apart at the seams and she was determined to hold him together...whether he wanted her to or not.


	10. Faith and Trust

Eames got stuck at work late, helping Logan and Wheeler when she couldn't do anything more with her own case. Informing Logan that he owed her, big time, she left just after ten and returned to Brooklyn. When she knocked on her partner's door, she wasn't really surprised that his brother answered. Frank knew she didn't like him, and he had stopped trying to force the issue. She was Bobby's problem, not his. With a guarded look, he stepped out of the doorway. "Bobby," he called. "Your keeper is here."

Goren came out of the kitchen, holding a beer bottle. "Eames, what are you doing here?" he asked, genuinely confused.

Her expression changed. "Evidently, being unwelcome," she replied, turning without warning and leaving the apartment.

Goren only hesitated for a moment before setting down his beer and following her, ignoring his brother's teasing taunt. He caught her at the elevator and grabbed her elbow. "Eames, stop. Please. I-I wasn't...I mean, I didn't...I didn't know you were coming over." He tipped his head closer to hers. "You're never unwelcome."

"I'm not comfortable around your brother. You know that."

"You've never given him a chance."

"Bobby, he's an addict, and a bad influence. Look at you."

He frowned and looked down at his clothes. "What's wrong with me?"

She tried not to smile, then a laugh bubbled up from her chest and she rested a hand on his cheek. "Nothing. Nothing is wrong with you. Never mind."

The elevator door opened as he studied her, his mind processing what had just happened. His eyes reflected his amusement, and she wasn't sure if she felt grateful or annoyed. "You think he's been here all day, leading me astray."

She shifted her eyes away from his. "Maybe," she muttered.

By now she realized her assumption had been wrong. He had only had a few beers, enough to lighten his mood and relieve his hangover, which meant Frank hadn't been there too long. He lowered his mouth to her ear and murmured, "Have dinner with me?"

The soft, husky tone of his voice vibrated through her body and she shifted, which he took as a good sign. He backed her slowly against the wall beside the now-closed doors of the elevator and caught her mouth in a slow, searing kiss. Her arms slowly snaked around his neck. She was consumed by his intensity, losing track of everything around them. The tip of his tongue teased her lips and she parted them with a groan, allowing his tongue entry. Her tongue battled his and her hands grasped the fabric of his shirt, gently tugging.

Breathless, he ended the kiss and stepped back, panting heavily but still holding her gaze. The heat in his eyes was searing and she could barely control herself. He arched his eyebrows in a question and repeated, "Dinner?"

The word tumbled around in her head, seeking definition, for what seemed a very long time before she nodded. Her ability to speak had been taken away for the moment. He held out his hand, which she took because she couldn't think and no other action came to mind.

He led her back to the apartment where Frank was waiting, surprised that she had returned with his brother. "Uhm, Eames and I are going to have dinner," Goren explained.

Frank noted her shell-shocked condition and smirked, "Uh-huh. Dinner."

With a grin, Goren nodded at the door. "I'll talk to you later."

"You can tell me how good 'dinner' was."

"Fat chance."

With a laugh, Frank gave his brother a gentle, affectionate punch in the shoulder and left the apartment, giving Eames one more appraising look as he left. By the time the door closed, she had recovered her senses and she smacked her partner on the shoulder. "What the hell was that?"

"What was what?"

"I don't appreciate being referred to as 'dinner,' in quotes!"

He laughed. "I'm sorry, but that's where Frank's mind goes automatically. Dinner can just be dinner."

She appreciated his good mood, a vast improvement over the night before, and decided not to jeopardize it. She moved closer to him, into his personal space, and slid her arms around him. Her fingers lightly stroked his back through his t-shirt, and she felt his body tremble. As he angled in for another kiss, her phone rang. She tried to ignore it, but found that impossible to do. She pulled the offending device out of her pocket and groaned at the caller ID. _Ross. Damn_. She took the call.

"Yes, captain?"

As soon as he realized Ross was calling, Goren withdrew from her and moved a few feet away, knowing that an after-hours call from the captain could not be a good thing.

"Have you talked to your partner?" Ross asked.

"Not yet."

She spoke the truth. They had done very little talking and she'd told him nothing about the case and the interviews she had set up for the following day.

"Find out if he's feeling better. You two have another body."

"Where?"

"Rockefellar Center, of all places, behind the Prometheus Fountain."

She was quiet for a minute, stunned. "How many witnesses do we have?"

"None. Not a single person has come forward."

She found that hard to believe. There were _always_ people at Rockefellar Center. "How do you know it's related to our case?"

"The body has been identified as Morris Franklin."

They were supposed to talk to Morris Franklin the next morning. "We'll be there as quickly as we can."

She ended the call and shoved the phone in her pocket. "Damn," she said softly.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Meet me at Rockefellar Center. Morris Franklin's body turned up at the Prometheus Fountain."

She gave him a quick kiss and hurried out the door.

* * *

Goren took a fast shower and changed into a clean suit. There was a better than good chance that Ross would also be at the scene, and the captain already had enough reason not to like him, courtesy of the department's rumor mill. Although he really didn't care what Ross thought about him, he did care what the man thought about Eames.

Not long ago, Logan told him that Ross was still feeling his way as the captain of Major Case and it didn't mean anything when he popped up at a scene. He'd already shown up at his three times. That might be true, but it didn't prevent Goren from being annoyed when Ross turned up at one of his crime scenes. Deakins had trusted them to do their job; Ross should do the same.

The entire way to Midtown Manhattan, Goren's mind churned, trying to identify the significance of Paul Manship's _Prometheus_ and tie it in with Reutersward's _Non-Violence_. The significance had to lie within the works of art rather than the locations. It took effort for the perp to leave the bodies where he had—more effort than if the sites were the ambassadors of his message. Although he did not discount the locations, he had a strong feeling that the two sculptures carried a greater message.

He pulled his police placard from its place in the glove box and set it on the driver's side console. As he got out of the car, he clipped his badge on the pocket of his jacket. He adjusted his tie and walked toward the mass of crime scene guys who swarmed around the fountain, which had been turned off, even though any trace had already most likely been washed away. He ducked under the crime scene tape, unchallenged by the uniformed officers who secured the scene from unwanted interlopers. Eames stood off to the side of the main fountain, talking with Ross. He nodded at her before proceeding directly to the body, pulling on a pair of gloves as he walked. He had no desire to directly interact with his captain.

Morris Franklin's wet body lay sprawled beneath and behind the golden statute that depicted Prometheus bringing fire to man. Goren squatted beside the body, giving it a visual once-over before he began his examination. He sensed Eames nearby when she joined him and, for her benefit and hers alone, he began to verbalize his findings. "Uhm, the victim is of African and Asian descent, in his mid-to-late 20s." He turned the man's head so his face was away from him. "Cause of death appears to be a single gunshot wound to the back of the head, execution-style."

"Does that make sense to you?" Ross asked.

"Excuse me," Goren replied, annoyed at the interruption.

"It's different from Annie Kim's wound, which was in the chest."

"I'm aware of that, Captain. I'm not drawing any conclusions right now. The only thing we know for sure is that there is a connection between Annie Kim and Morris Franklin. We don't know what that means, if anything."

"But you think it's significant."

Eames intervened before Goren lost his temper. "We think it could be. Captain, we know our job. You need to trust us to do it."

Ross looked at her, then at Goren and finally back at her. "Is he okay?"

"_He_ is fine," Goren snapped, reminding Ross that he was there, and he could hear him and answer for himself.

Eames nodded to confirm her partner's statement and, finally, Ross walked away, but not before reminding her to keep him in the loop.

"I have a loop for him," Goren grumbled as Eames squatted across the body from him.

She smiled at him and he settled a little. "What else do you see?" she asked gently, redirecting his attention to Morris Franklin.

Taking a deep breath, he shifted his focus back to the victim and continued his examination.

* * *

It was after midnight when they finally left the scene. Stopping at his car, Goren leaned back against the door and looked at his partner. "I still owe you dinner," he said.

"Yes, you do."

"It's late."

"Is that a problem?"

"Not for me. Uhm, if you want, you can stay at my place. I can, uh, I can sleep on the couch..."

There were still too many people around for her to physically react to his offer and he'd stopped looking at her before he offered for her to stay with him. She couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"Let's grab a bite to eat, and we'll discuss it. I'm parked over there; I'll follow you."

He nodded. "Any preference?"

"A good diner works."

"Okay. I know a place."

He pulled out his keys and watched her jog to her car, feeling an odd, overwhelming sense of both disappointment and relief that they had been interrupted earlier.

* * *

They chose a booth in a back corner of the diner. Once they'd placed their order, she slipped her foot out of her shoe and placed it in his lap, smiling at his reaction to the unexpected, sudden pressure against him. He saw the smile play at her lips and curled his hands around her small foot. His eyes grew bright with mischief and he ran his fingers lightly up and down the sole of her foot. Her eyes widened and her foot squirmed as she tried to pull it away, but he had a good grip on her and she couldn't free herself. She clenched her mouth tightly as she struggled not to laugh until her knee slammed into the table. Although he didn't release her foot, he stopped tickling her. His left hand traveled up her leg to her knee and he began to gently rub it. Relaxing his grip on her foot, he made the same motions with his right hand only with more pressure.

He watched her face relax as her expression slid toward one of total pleasure. His body reacted powerfully to her expression. Slowly, he slid his left hand along the side of her knee. She tensed when he stroked the underside of her knee, down her calf and back to her foot. Only the pressure of his fingers against her foot kept her in her seat. The corners of his mouth turned up but before he could comment, the waitress arrived with their plates. He continued to massage her foot with both hands until the woman left. She struggled to keep her expression neutral until the waitress was gone. Then she melted again. "If you keep that up," she murmured huskily. "I am going to go to sleep right here."

"You want me to stop?"

"No."

His face relaxed into an easy smile and he moved his left hand to the tabletop so he could eat. She wriggled her toes against his other hand and he stroked the bottom of her foot with his thumb, pleased by the strong reaction he got from her. Still, she kept her foot where it was, and he alternated between a firm massage and a light touch, keeping her alert. She enjoyed it with obvious pleasure, and the silence they shared was easy.

* * *

It was close to three when they finally got back to his apartment. "Just give me a minute," he said as he went down the hall to his bedroom.

He closed the bedroom door three-quarters of the way, out of habit, and took off his jacket, laying it over the back of a chair. He walked to his dresser, braced his hands against it and closed his eyes for a minute. All night long, he had kept his emotions in check, until they went to dinner. Now he had to get himself under control. He'd enjoyed touching her so much, and he was so worked up from the diner that he couldn't stay in the same room with her. He wanted to take it slow, to do things right with her, but his body was not inclined to wait.

It wasn't that he hadn't had sex recently because he had. The difference with Eames was the emotional connection. He couldn't remember ever being with a woman to whom he had strong emotional ties. He didn't form emotional bonds. His mother's abandonment crippled his ability to love anyone except his brother. Then, Eames came along and wriggled her way past all his defenses, directly into his heart. She was unique in his life and he refused to relegate her to his list of mere conquests. She meant more to him than anyone else ever had and he wanted her to know how much he cherished her. The problem was he had no idea how to show that to her.

Moving slowly, he emptied his pockets onto the dresser and slipped his gun into the drawer in the nightstand beside his bed. Returning to the dresser, he opened a drawer to pull out a pair of sweatpants. From another drawer, he pulled a t-shirt. After a moment of hesitation, he pulled out another t-shirt, thinking that she might need something to wear to bed.

He hadn't settled down at all and he didn't quite know what to do about it with her in the next room. Deeply distracted, he didn't notice when she came into the room until she reached out and rested a hand on his back. He trembled and he knew she felt it. He couldn't hide it. Her hand moved up his back and she gently played with his hair as she stepped to his side and whispered his name. He swallowed hard and drew in a deep breath before he turned his head to look at her.

She met his eyes and he felt like she was looking into his soul, reading his thoughts and his feelings, but he couldn't look away. Her fingers in his hair relaxed him and he leaned toward her. She didn't hesitate to kiss him, and he turned fully in her direction to deepen the kiss and hold her closer, trembling with the effort to hold on to his control. He withdrew suddenly.

"What's wrong?" she whispered in that same husky, desire-laden tone she'd used in the diner.

He groaned softly, trying not to hyper-focus on her, but she was too close. Every sense was filled with her and he couldn't concentrate on anything else. "Bobby?"

He closed his eyes, eliminating one of his senses, which was enough to let him answer her. "I...I just...I don't want to screw this up, Alex."

"Look at me."

Slowly, he forced his eyes open and she smiled. Barely holding his own, her smile almost did him in. Her hand moved to his cheek and she gently stroked his face. "Why do you think you would?"

"I...I've never done this before an-and I'm not quite sure just what to do."

"Never done what?"

"Fallen in love."

She was stunned for a moment by his admission. Then she kissed him again, with passion and with a meaning that escaped him. He drew back before he went too far. "Alex..."

She stroked his face again. "You're not sure and I get that. But I _am_ sure, so...follow my lead."

It seemed such a simple thing to do, yet it wasn't, not for him. "I can't...Alex, if I rush this, I stand the chance of destroying something wonderful."

She had seen his confidence with women a hundred times, so his current insecurity puzzled her. "You think that once we sleep together, it will be over?"

He faltered because often that was exactly the case. Once he got a woman into bed, he lost interest in anything but sex, and the relationship, whatever there was of it, was destroyed. He didn't want that to happen with her. The less she knew about him, he felt, the better chance he had with her, and she already knew more than anyone but Frank. Quietly, he answered, "I...I don't want to take the chance."

She almost laughed, but didn't when she realized the full extent of the damage his mother had done to him. "Trust me," she urged. "Just...trust me."

His hands tightened on her waist. "I..."

She silenced him with a kiss. "For once in your life, don't analyze it. Take a leap, Bobby, and trust someone else."

"I...I have never done that before."

"I know. And it may be one of the hardest things you'll ever have to do, but it will also be the most rewarding." Her tone increased in its intensity. "I know that you have never believed in anyone, that you have issues with faith and trust, but once, just once, give it a try. Believe in _me_."

She slowly unbuttoned his shirt. As much as she wanted to jump into the bed and have her way, she knew that it was going to take some coaxing, some convincing and a lot of patience to get past this hurdle with him. She pushed his shirt off his shoulders and tugged on his undershirt. He pulled it off, but when she moved her hands to his belt, he stepped back, gently grabbing her wrists and looking into her eyes. She didn't look away, keeping her expression soft and open, and he slowly released his grip, allowing her to continue.

She was winning him over and he struggled with himself to do as she asked and trust her. Taking a deep breath, he reached out and gently tugged her shirt, which she willingly allowed him to remove. He ran his fingers over her skin, which was soft and cool, like the small hands that caressed him in return. Each touch pushed him closer to the edge. Only his anxiety held him back.

Once she had pushed his pants down over his hips, she gently drew him with her toward the bed. He followed, watching as she crawled into his bed. She stretched out on her back and enticed him to join her. When he hesitated again, she whispered, "Trust me."

With a hard swallow and a racing heart, he did as she asked and joined her in the bed. Turning fully toward him, she kissed him deeply and ran her hands over every part of him she could reach. He was done. His mind finally shut down and he surrendered to her. She won.


	11. Work and Play Do Mix

**A/N: In real world New York, the OCME (Office of the Chief Medical Examiner) offices, mortuary, autopsy suites and labs are located at 520 First Avenue, about 14 miles away from 1 PP. It would take about a half hour to get there from Major Case, depending on traffic. As an assistant chief medical examiner, it stands to reason Rodgers would work out of that office. In Frame, however, it took Ross and Eames minutes to respond to Goren's temper tantrum in the morgue, leading us to believe it was housed in the same building. He would have been long gone if they'd had to drive for a half hour in midday Manhattan traffic to get there. So, for the purposes of this story, Rodgers is close by, as she seems to be in the L&O world.**

* * *

Goren woke as the sun came up to find Eames nestled beside him in the bed, her hand in the center of his chest. Her head rested in the hollow of his shoulder and his arm wrapped around her with his hand laying on her hip. He was comfortable, and he felt...good. He felt very good. As she requested, he'd trusted her, the first time he had placed his faith in anyone other than Frank, and it paid off in spades.

Sensing he was awake, she stirred. Opening her eyes, she smiled and kissed his cheek. "Good morning," she whispered into his ear.

He made a soft noise and turned his head to kiss her. "Good morning," he answered.

She gently stroked his chest and snuggled against him. He was surprised that she liked to snuggle, but apparently, she did, at least with him. He could take it or leave it, but he liked physical contact with her, very much. The more she snuggled, the more he liked it.

"I, uhm, I'm sorry you didn't get much sleep."

"I can function for a day on a couple of hours. Just don't expect me to be Susie Sunshine."

He laughed quietly. "Okay, I won't."

Smiling, she played with the soft hair that curled on his chest. "Can I ask you something?" she asked quietly.

"Go ahead."

"Last night when I first got here and at the diner, you were very confident, but when we got back here after we ate, you kind of fell apart. I've never seen you so uncertain with me. What happened?"

He tucked his arm behind his head and pulled her closer with his other arm. "I...I _thought_ about it, about us and what it all means. I know how I am, how I've always been, and I...I was afraid to risk losing you."

She lifted her head and looked around the room. "I'm still here."

"Yes, you are."

"Have you lost interest in me?"

"Not by a long shot."

"Well, there we go."

He was genuinely surprised to discover that he had not lost interest in her. The strength of his emotional connection to her was apparently enough to withstand the power of sex. He had honestly intended to take it slow, but apparently she did not feel the same way. And his body went right along with her, betraying him at every turn. To his amazement, it had turned out well. The experience had been amazing, and he wanted more, which did not surprise him. What did surprise him was that his emotional connection to her was still very much intact. He still loved her.

"Alex," he murmured softly. "What about work?"

"What about it?"

"We, uhm, now...what if...you know..."

She smiled and looked at him. "Relax. Work is work. Just be yourself and do your job. I have complete faith that you can be professional and we'll be just fine."

She stretched a little and teased his lips with a light kiss, reigniting a fire deep in his gut. His hand strayed over her shoulder, into her hair, and he kissed her deeply. The fire grew as he played with her body to stoke a similar fire in her, and she responded wonderfully.

* * *

Goren sat at his desk and pulled a small stack of papers from his inbox. He leafed through them before he spoke. "I've got a preliminary autopsy report for Annie Kim. Uhm..."

Eames watched his brow furrow as he trailed off and seemed to lose himself in the pages he held. Before she could question him, the captain approached their desks. "Good morning, detectives."

"Good morning, captain," Eames replied as Goren glanced up, annoyed at having been interrupted.

Ross met Goren's glare. "How are you doing today, detective?" he asked.

"I'm fine, captain," he answered.

Ross nodded and turned to Eames. "Keep me updated on your progress in the case," he said. "Since the bodies seem to be turning up in high profile locations, the mayor is putting pressure on the brass to get this thing solved. That translates to pressure on me and you know where it ends."

"We're working on it, sir," she assured him.

Ross turned and walked away, and Goren made an impatient noise. Eames looked across the desks and gave him an encouraging smile. She motioned her hand toward the papers he was holding. "So...what did you find?"

"What? Oh, uh..." He shook his head. "It's probably nothing."

"If you noticed it, it's probably something."

He was quiet as he again looked over the papers he held. Then he flipped through the pages in his binder. "I...uh, do you remember those bruises I found on Morris' arms?"

She nodded. "What about them?"

Goren looked down at the desk, quiet for a few minutes. He turned to one of the reports. "There were no bruises on Annie Kim..." He shuffled the papers again. "Uhm, CSU didn't recover the bullet that killed Annie..." He searched for another report. "The best they can do is guess at the caliber and velocity of the bullet that killed her based on the wound and the amount of damage the bullet did. They haven't put their guess on paper yet." He looked thoughtful. "Morris Franklin...he had an entry wound in his head...but no exit wound. They'll recover the bullet when they open his skull...unless...the bullet could have exited without leaving an exit wound."

"How?"

He tapped the back of his head, trailed his hand along the side of his head and touched his mouth. "How likely is that?" she asked.

"I don't know, but it's a possibility."

He fell silent, chasing something in his head. She knew that far-off look in his eyes and she waited for a minute before she said, "What is it?"

He shook his head to clear it. He looked through the reports in his hand once more, chasing one to the floor when it escaped from him. When he sat back up, Eames was smiling, which distracted him a little. He stammered for a second before he found his train of thought. "I...I need to see Morris' body again."

"You know how much Rodgers hates it when you hover over her bodies. Harassing her isn't going to get us those autopsy reports any sooner."

He got to his feet. "But the mayor and the brass are pressuring Ross. She should share in that. Besides, it gives us some leverage. Come on."

With a sigh, she got up and hustled after him. He was so stubborn sometimes. It never went well when he challenged Rodgers and she had no reason to believe it would this time. She knew she would never convince him to just wait, though, so she had no real choice but to go along with him.

They entered the elevator, which was empty, but they stood on opposite sides of the car from each other, and she watched him. He shifted nervously as he watched the digital readout tick off the passing floors. "Are you okay?" she asked.

He looked at her with a puzzled scowl. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just seem agitated...well, more agitated than usual."

He moved his head, but she wasn't sure what the gesture meant. He rubbed the back of his neck and said, "This case...everything about it has me uptight. This..._thing_...with Colonel Sutter... has me distracted and I don't like being distracted."

"What about this...this..._thing_...between us?" she asked hesitantly, questioning their timing for the first time.

He looked at her sharply and she thought she saw panic flash in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"You're complaining about being distracted..."

"But not about _you_ distracting me," he said quickly, and she knew it was panic.

"Bobby..."

He made a sharp gesture that cut her off, giving the ceiling-mounted camera a sideways glance. She frowned. "They don't record sound," she said.

"You don't need sound to read body language."

"You think the guys watching these cameras are that good?"

"No, but I don't know how good Ross is yet and if he has any reason to review these cameras..."

"Like what? Don't you think he has better things to do than look through irrelevant video without cause?"

"I don't know, Eames. I haven't figured him out yet."

That was what her partner did. He figured people out, read them and sorted them into categories in his mind. Sometimes, he nailed a profile quickly. Other times, it took him awhile, and he was uneasy and agitated during the process. Ross was taking time to figure out, and he didn't like it at all.

By the time the doors opened on the lowest level of the building, his agitation had skyrocketed and she wasn't sure why. She did know that she had to calm him down, off camera, before he confronted Rodgers. The medical examiner worked with the dead because she didn't have the patience or the bedside manner to doctor the living, but she knew Goren and she genuinely liked him. And Rodgers was smart. She would know that he was off his game, so Eames had to fix it now, before they saw the medical examiner.

They stepped out of the elevator and Eames grabbed his arm, leading him around the corner into a hallway that led to the rest rooms, a couple of locked storage rooms and a janitor's closet. She pushed him against the wall beside the water fountain. "Listen to me," she began.

He touched her mouth with two fingers and looked up and down the hall, then grasped her shoulders and moved her back out of his way. Grabbing her hand, he led her further down the hall to the janitor's closet. Opening the door, he pushed her in ahead of him, flipping on the light as the door silently closed. It was large for a closet and held very few supplies on its shelves. Obviously, it wasn't often used, at least, not by janitors.

He backed her against a wall next to a sink that was shrouded with spider webs. "Now you can talk," he said softly, placing his hand against the wall by her head.

Her eyes darted around the room. "Come here often?" she asked.

"I've been here a few times," he admitted.

"To talk?" she pressed.

"Not usually."

She slowly shook her head. "We need to..."

He dipped his head down level with hers. "You wanted to talk," he said, his voice still soft. "So talk. This is better than pushing me up against a wall by the bathrooms."

"How is it better?"

"If I get...distracted..." he answered, glancing down the front of her shirt, much of his agitation now absorbed by energy with a different focus. "We don't have to worry about witnesses."

"And if someone else gets the same idea to use this room and walks in on us?"

"Very few people use this room, and Logan's not chasing anyone at 1PP at the moment."

She laughed. "You and Logan, huh?"

"And one or two others. Not many people like being in this part of the building. We won't be interrupted."

He trailed his finger along her throat to her collar bone and then down the center of her chest to her stomach. She swallowed hard and closed her eyes. He pressed his mouth to her neck and murmured, "You wanted me to listen. I'm listening."

"You're not listening at all," she countered.

He pulled his head back and feigned an injured look. "I certainly am."

With a tender smile, she placed her hand on his cheek. "I just need you to calm down before we go to see Rodgers. If the captain starts checking in with other departments about your behavior, I don't want him to get anything other than a good report."

Goren frowned. "Why would he do that?"

"Deakins was concerned with results. He waited for negative reports to come to him and then he dealt with them. He wasn't so concerned with your behavior, and his trust paid off. Ross is a different kind of man. Along with results, he worries about appearances, and you make him nervous. He puts stock in the things he's heard about you, and that makes him reluctant to let you far out of his sight. Give him time. He'll settle down. But I need you to calm down first. Don't give him the ammunition he expects to find."

She watched his face as she talked, and by the time she was done, he seemed more at ease. He had also shifted his focus from the captain to her. He ran his hands over her shoulders. "I'll behave," he promised as he leaned in and kissed her.

She laughed as she pulled back as far as she could and spoke with her mouth just inches from his. "You call this behaving?"

He smiled. "I'll behave...in public," he retorted, closing the distance to just a fraction of an inch. Then, he whispered, "In private, I make no promises."

She laughed again, a delightful sound to him. "Leave it to you to find a way to bring this in to work."

"Where there's a will, there's a way," he replied, pressing his mouth against hers again.

Against her better judgment, she responded to him, slipping her hands under his jacket and then over his chest. She slid her arms around his neck and lightly teased the hair at the nape of his neck. With a shiver of delight and a quiet moan into her mouth, he deepened the kiss. His hands slipped beneath her shirt and he stroked her skin, working his way up her back toward her bra. She groaned as she lost herself to the sensations, squirming when he tickled and shifting her hips against him when arousal overcame her. When her bra popped loose, she pulled back from the kiss. "Bobby..." she whispered, a weak attempt at a warning.

He silenced her with another kiss and shifted his hips against her. She made a soft sound into his mouth and brought her hands around to his belt. He pulled her shirt over her head as she undid his belt and then his pants.

Unconcerned with anything but each other, feeling safe in their covert surroundings, they surrendered to the passion that consumed them.

* * *

Elizabeth Rodgers looked up from the body of Morris Franklin when Goren and Eames entered the room. She started to look back down then did a double take, studying them more closely. Goren arched his eyebrows, managing to look innocent. "Something wrong, Dr. Rodgers?"

She studied them for another minute before she said, "You look good, Goren."

"I do?"

She nodded. "Did you get some good sleep last night?"

"I had a good night," he admitted.

Not needing any more information and unwilling to subject Eames to the details of her partner's private life, she looked back down at the body in front of her. "I don't have any answers for you yet."

"Did you finish the autopsy of Annie Kim?"

He always managed to find a question she _could_ answer after she asserted that she had nothing to tell them. She looked up again. "I did and you'll have the report this afternoon, with toxicology pending."

"The captain is getting a lot of pressure on this one," Eames explained.

"And he's shifting that pressure onto you," Rodgers acknowledged. She knew well how the transfer of pressure filtered down from the brass. "I get that. I'll be autopsying Mr. Franklin this morning so you can expect results tomorrow...minus toxicology, of course."

Goren's attention shifted to the body and Rodgers stepped back to let him have a look. Eames wasn't as eager to get up close and personal with their victims, but Goren had no reservations. He slowly circled the table where Morris Franklin lay, waiting to give up the secrets of his final moments. Goren focused all his attention on the victim while the two women watched him. When he folded himself in half to lean over and look into Morris' slightly open mouth, Rodgers asked, "What are you looking for, detective?"

"An exit wound," he replied.

Rodgers suppressed a smile. "If it's there," she replied, "his palate will be shattered. It's not something I would miss. I'll let you know."

He huffed in impatient frustration, straightened to his full height and looked over the victim, head to toe, once more before looking toward the two women.

Eames was stunned by the pain in Goren's expression as he met her eyes. When he looked toward Rodgers, his expression changed, but he was still pained. "What's wrong, detective?" the doctor asked.

"The bruises and lacerations," Goren said.

"I haven't evaluated them yet."

"His arms, legs and torso are covered with them, but his face and his genitals are untouched. He was...tortured before he was killed...but it wasn't personal. And...there's no sense of rage about it either. Whoever tortured him thought he knew something, and he wanted that information." He paused to circle the body again. "Annie Kim wasn't tortured."

"No," Rodgers agreed with him. "She wasn't."

"So maybe she didn't have the same information...or maybe it's something he didn't know he wanted when he killed her." He looked at Eames. "We need to pay a visit to the colonel's store in Chinatown, uh, _Asia on Your Doorstep_."

They started toward the door, but Goren turned back to Rodgers. "Thank you, doctor. We'll look for your reports."

Rodgers watched them leave, waiting until they were gone before she smiled. They were one of her favorite teams of detectives. She liked the way they worked together so seamlessly. Eames was good for him. She played a calming role in Goren's day-to-day life, and he needed that. Turning back to the body, she prepared for the autopsy as she waited for her assistant.

* * *

_Asia on Your Doorstep_ was a modest storefront on Mulberry Street off Canal Street, just north of Columbus Park. Goren opened the door for his partner and followed her into the shop. More than half the store was devoted to items that were handmade by native craftsmen in many different Asian countries, from Vietnam and Borneo to Laos and Russia. He could identify crafts from Japan, Korea and Thailand as well as India, Bangladesh and Mongolia. The entire west wall of the shop, extending out to claim about a quarter of the store, was devoted to handiwork from the Arab countries of Qatar, Saudi Arabia, Jordan, Iran, and several of their neighbors. Israeli crafts graced shelves in the center of the store. Bobby was impressed to discover that in some form, virtually every country in Asia was represented in the store. The very back of the store was a showcase for the antiques and collectibles that had been Morris Franklin's specialty. Among the several beautiful pieces of furniture were articles of ceremonial clothing, ornate knives and daggers and other artifacts that dated back before the time of Christ. Goren wondered if they were replicas, which was a distinct possibility. If so, they were as close to perfect as a replica could get without being the real thing.

Several signs placed around the shop advised shoppers that twenty percent of all sales went back to the native artisans and an additional ten percent funded programs that stimulated the economy and preserved natural resources, including native species of animals and plants endangered by the encroachment of man.

The place was fairly busy and they counted four sales people helping customers ready to purchase while another ten or twelve people browsed. Behind the counter hung Annie's picture, with a sign identifying her as the store manager. Goren picked up a paper that advertised the online store that Morris managed.

"Many places focus their energy on one area of Asia—southeast Asia, the Middle East, the Buddhist countries of the Himalayas—or one particular country—India, Russia, Japan, China, Nepal. Colonel Sutter, it seems, couldn't decide on one area, so he has something from _every_ area of Asia. That's unusual, especially for a shop in Chinatown." Goren said to his partner.

"It seems to be successful," she replied.

"One stop shopping for Asian décor," he said.

She slid her arm into his and said, "We really need something for the living room, dear. It's just missing _something_."

He smiled briefly. He loved their undercover stints as a married couple. She tugged his arm and he followed where she led. He listened in long-suffering silence as she pointed out different items and described how nice they would look in their fictional living room.

She stopped suddenly and fell silent, looking at a shelf filled with stone sculptures. She picked up one and studied it, turning it over in her hands as she examined it from every angle. Without saying anything, she set it back on the shelf and moved on, her expression dark.

Goren watched her, looked back at the figurine and then followed after her. By the time they moved into the next area of the shop, her mood had once again lightened. He took her arm and asked, "What was that?"

"What was what?"

"That Foo Dog...it triggered some kind of memory for you."

"I'm sorry. It's dumb..."

"Don't belittle your memories, Alex. Tell me."

She shook her head, embarrassed, but she knew he wasn't going to let it go. Shifting her position, she tucked her arm back into his and continued their wandering around the shop. "When I was little, my grandmother had a pair of statues just like that. My grandfather served in the Pacific during and just after the war. He brought them back for her, and she treasured them. After they died, my aunt got the statues, and I don't know what ever happened to them, but they looked just like that."

He was quiet as they continued through the shop. Goren stiffened when a salesman approached them. His name tag read 'Rodney.' "Hello, folks," he greeted with false friendliness. "What are we looking for today?"

Goren decided he was done playing games. "We're looking for Annie Kim," he said, straightening his shoulders as Eames withdrew from his arm.

"Ms. Kim isn't in today," he said as he moved back a step. "Maybe I can help you. I know our inventory just as well as she does."

"We prefer to deal with her directly," Eames said. "Can you tell us when she'll be in?"

"She doesn't check in with me," he said bitterly with a hint of anger.

Goren cocked his head to the left as he read resentment in the man's tone. "You don't like Annie Kim," he said, continuing to refer to her in the present.

Annoyed, the man took a moment to gather himself. "Is there something I can help you find?" he said, ignoring the question.

Goren pulled his badge from his pocket and held it up. Eames did the same. "Let's have a talk," Goren said as he grabbed the man's arm. "Our place."

They led him to the front of the store. "Rodney's taking his lunch with us," Eames said as she held up her badge to a sales girl who approached them as they got to the front door.

The rest of the staff exchanged puzzled looks as Rodney left with the two detectives.


	12. The Interrogation of Rodney Wilcox

Goren stood in the observation room, arms folded across his chest, watching Rodney shift uncomfortably in his chair in the interrogation room. Eames joined him after talking with Ross. Without looking at her, Goren said, "He wanted to know why we brought Rodney in."

"How'd you know?"

"Lucky guess. What did you tell him?"

"He acted suspicious."

Goren nodded as he continued to watch Rodney. That was better than telling the captain they brought the man in on a hunch. In the past, he'd sometimes had a hard time selling Deakins on his hunches. Ross would never accept that as a valid excuse for bringing someone in for questioning. Eames knew that as well.

Ross came into the room and unbuttoned his jacket as he stepped up to the window beside Goren. "Ready, detectives?" he said.

Goren drew in a deep breath and looked at Eames. She gave him a small smile and said, "Let's see what Rodney has to say."

Rodney looked up when the door opened and the two detectives came into the room. "Am I under arrest?" he demanded.

"Not yet," Goren answered as he sat down across from the irate man. "When we arrest you, you'll know it."

"Do I need a lawyer?"

Goren cocked his head. "Do you think you do?"

"I haven't done anything wrong!"

"Then I guess you don't need a lawyer."

"So why am I here?"

"We want to talk about Annie Kim. People tend to tell the truth here more than they do in familiar surroundings."

"What makes you think I'm not telling the truth?"

Goren smiled the smile of a predator. "If you are, you have nothing to worry about, do you?"

"You got very irate when we mentioned Annie Kim," Eames said. "Why?"

"I have my reasons."

Goren folded his hands in front of him, giving an impression of patience. "Tell us about your reasons."

"What's to tell? I worked for the colonel for five years before she waltzed in and took over the shop. That manager's job should have been mine! But no, she comes in and smiles real pretty and...and he gives it to her! How fair is that?"

"Why do you think she got the job?" Eames asked.

Rodney sneered. "Because she's got a pretty smile and a pretty ass that she knows how to wiggle to get the right attention. She gave the man what _he_ wanted and then she got what _she_ wanted."

In the wake of Rodney's accusation, Goren felt an unexpected surge of anger and a sudden urge to punch Rodney in the face. His left hand curled into a fist. His voice was tight when he said, "So you think she slept her way into that job?"

"How else could she have gotten it?"

Goren flexed his hand, trying to calm himself. "You don't think her Master's degree in Business Administration from Columbia University had anything to do with it?"

Eames heard the tension in his voice and realized how very close to the edge he was. She took over the interrogation. "You automatically assume that because she's a woman, she had to sleep her way into her job? It never occurred to you that she deserved that job?"

Rodney became uncomfortable. "I had seniority. Hell, everyone in the store had seniority over her. Doesn't that count for anything?"

"Maybe not when a more qualified person comes along," Goren growled. "Maybe the colonel had reasons to hire someone from outside the shop for that position. Do you have problems with Annie?"

"I let her know when she does something I don't agree with."

As Goren wrote in his binder, Eames said, "Give us an example of what you do to let her know you're unhappy."

Rodney shrugged. "I just tell her what she did wrong."

"In your opinion."

"Yeah, so?"

Goren looked up, reading more into Rodney's tone than his words. "So...you argue with her."

"Sometimes." Rodney was becoming increasingly more uncomfortable. "What the hell is this all about? Why are the cops involved in an internal situation? It's none of your business."

Goren tapped his pen on the pad in front of him, agitated. "It's very much our business, Rodney," he said, his voice distinctly unfriendly. "It became our business when Annie Kim turned up dead in front of the United Nations Friday morning."

All the color left Rodney's face. "D-Dead?"

"Dead," Goren confirmed.

Suddenly, it dawned on Rodney why he was there. His face turned red. "And you think I...?" He leapt to his feet, knocking over his chair.

When the chair hit the floor, Goren got to his feet as well, both hands balled into fists and ready to take action. Rodney came around the end of the table, advancing on the two detectives. "You've got to be kidding me!" he shouted. "You think I killed her? How many kinds of crazy do you think I am?"

Eames got up as soon as Goren did, ready to break up an altercation that her partner suddenly seemed eager to start. She moved into his peripheral vision and saw some of his tension ease, but he was still much too eager to fight. "Move back to your seat, Mr. Wilcox. Right now."

She kept her voice calm and spoke with authority. Rodney looked from her to Goren. He seemed to be sizing up her partner, and she silently willed him not to be stupid. Regardless of how it started, a fight would definitely not go well for Goren. Physically, he would pound Rodney into the ground. And then Ross would enter the picture and that was where it would get hairy for him.

The door opened, and two uniformed officers came in, remaining by the door but ready to take action if Rodney made a wrong move, a wise precaution on Ross' part. Rodney took the time to assess the situation and finally decided that the repercussions would not be worth the satisfaction of punching Goren, not there, not then. With deliberate slowness, he walked back to his chair, righted it and sat down.

Eames tugged the sleeve of her partner's jacket and nodded her head toward the door. Goren hesitated, but he didn't want her to look bad in front of Rodney. Even more, he refused to challenge her authority as senior partner in front of Ross, who was watching through the one-way glass.

Silently, he grabbed his binder and walked to the door, stopping only to tell the two uniforms to stay in the room. Eames didn't dispute his decision and she let the men stay. Goren left the room as she turned her attention to Rodney. He joined Ross in the observation room. It was more important for him to watch his partner in the interrogation than it was for him to avoid the discomfort he felt when he was around Ross.

The captain looked at him as he stepped up to the glass beside him. "What was that, detective?"

Goren shook his head. "I...I'm sorry, captain. I lost my temper. That doesn't usually happen in an interrogation."

"So what makes today different?"

Goren reached out and turned up the volume on the speaker so he could hear what Eames was saying. Then he answered, "I got caught up in my emotions. Annie Kim..." He shook his head. "She got her position on merit. She didn't get it any other way. He is angry and bitter...and I...I lost my patience with his...baseless accusations."

"So that anger...it's not your norm?"

"No, captain. It's not."

Goren wasn't going to go into detail about Sutter and his relationship to him, nor was he going to explain that it was Sutter he was defending. The anger had come on him suddenly and it was overwhelming. He needed to work through it, and he would, but he had barely been able to handle it in the face of dealing with Rodney and his rage at Annie Kim. He needed time, and he needed Eames.

With his arms folded around his binder, he watched Eames and listened to the interrogation, trying to ignore Ross and concentrate on his partner and Rodney.

Rodney slapped his hand on the table. "No, I didn't approve of Annie as store manager. I felt that I was much more experienced and I deserved the promotion."

"Why did you think that?"

"Because I'd been there for five years! How would you feel if you worked yourself into the ground for five years and then some pretty ass wiggled by and stole your promotion right out from under you?" He paused as he looked her over. "Never mind, detective. You'd probably _be_ the pretty ass wiggling by the boss."

Goren bristled at that, but he was careful to hide his reaction from Ross. He knew the captain was watching him and he did his best to be impassive, but the truth of the matter was he wanted to beat Rodney to a pulp. He chewed on his lower lip as he listened to Eames' reply.

"She had an advanced degree from a prestigious university and a lot of experience with Asian imports and native artisans, which we found out more than tripled the store's already good profits. You don't think that had anything to do with her being made store manager?"

"I'm not an idiot. I know how it works."

"In your mind, maybe, which probably compounded your lack of credentials when the colonel was considering who to make his manager."

When Rodney jumped to his feet again, hissing with rage, the uniformed officers took two steps forward and he sat back down. In the observation room, Ross tensed and Goren struggled to remain where he was. If he went charging in there like a white knight to her rescue, well, _he_ would be the one needing to be rescued. So he stayed put. He held his binder in a white-knuckled grip and his breathing rate increased as his anger flared again. Ross noticed the tension in his jaw, but he didn't comment.

Eames shook her head as she gathered her papers together and slipped them into their folder. "You aren't making things easy for yourself, Mr. Wilcox." She leaned back in her chair and gave him a look of disdain. "What is your opinion of Morris Franklin? Did he sleep his way to the top, too?"

"I don't know who he did to get where he was. Maybe the boss swings both ways, but he didn't deserve it any more than she did."

"Do the others feel the same way you do?"

He shrugged, but his hands were trembling with rage. "Who cares? I know the truth."

"The truth," she mused. "Tell me this truth: Where were you Thursday night?"

Caught off-guard by the question, Rodney stumbled over his answer, finally snapping, "That's none of your business, cop."

Eames nodded and wrote on a paper in the folder in front of her. "I suppose it's also none of our business where you were yesterday afternoon and evening?"

"That's right."

"Well, I'll tell you what we can do. Your behavior and your lack of an alibi give us reasonable cause to suspect you of murder. So we can hold you for twenty-four hours. That gives us until this time tomorrow to charge you, and by then, we'll know."

Rodney's face lost its color, but he kept up his bravado. "You can't do that!"

"Yes, we can, and we will."

"I want my lawyer."

"You'll have a chance to make that call."

She nodded at the two officers and they came forward to take Rodney into custody. He began swearing as they cuffed him, calling every cop in the city every name under the sun as they led him away. Eames followed them out the door and turned in the opposite direction from the way they went.

As soon as she entered the observation room, she could feel the tension. Goren turned from the one-way glass and looked at her, his expression guarded. She knew part of the reason he was uptight was that Ross was right there. She wondered if they'd had another clash and that made her uneasy. She preferred to be there when the two men butted heads. She was the cool head that made them retain their control, but most of all, she was the voice of reason when Goren's temper began to slip. She was just about the only one to whom he listened when he was beginning to lose his control.

She looked back and forth between the two men. "Is everything okay in here?"

Ross nodded and replied, "Everything is fine. Do you think you can tie your loose ends together in time to bring charges against Mr. Wilcox?"

"If he's guilty," Goren answered. "We'll know by this time tomorrow."

Ross gave him a long, appraising look. "See that you do, detective," he answered.

He walked out of the room, leaving the two detectives alone. Eames motioned to him. "Let's go for a walk. We haven't had lunch yet."

He hesitated for a moment, then followed her out of the room. He dropped his binder on his desk as they walked to the elevators, glancing toward Logan's desk, which was vacant. He sighed as he stopped beside her but he didn't look at her. She could feel his tension, but she wasn't comfortable talking until they were out of the building.

As they walked away from 1 PP, Eames asked, "What happened back there?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you don't lose it in interrogation. Rodney pushed your buttons in a major way, and you let him. Why?"

Goren felt his anger return, and he struggled with it for a minute. "I let him get to me. That's all I've got."

"And sometimes that works to our advantage, but not today. Bobby, I thought you were going to lay him out."

"I wanted to. I really did."

"Why? Was it what he said about Annie...or was it what he said about Colonel Sutter?"

She looked at him as she asked her question, and his reaction gave her the answer she wanted before he said a word. He rubbed the back of his neck and his respiration rate went up. "I just...I don't think the colonel is that kind of man."

"Because you don't want to believe he would cheat on your mother?"

"Because I don't want to believe he's like my father. I think...I want to believe...he's a good man. I want to believe that he hired them on merit."

"Looking at their qualifications, I can believe he did. We should talk to some of the other employees, see if Rodney is the only one with an ax to grind."

"We should...we need to...talk to the colonel again, too."

"Unless he happens to be in the city, that means another trip out to Montauk. We have to get Rodney squared away first. We only have 24 hours, and we can't waste any of it. We have to have enough to charge him by morning or he's going to vanish down the rabbit hole."

"I know."

Of course he knew. She reached out and lightly stroked the back of his hand. He felt a shiver course up his spine and he closed his eyes for a second before turning his hand over. He lightly caressed the palm of her hand with his fingertips. She made a sound that was almost lost in the noise of the street, but he heard it and it traveled right to the center of his belly where it began to simmer.

He withdrew his hand, not sure where he would end up if she continued to respond that way. Although it was understated and covert, her reaction had a powerful effect on him and they still had a long day ahead of them.

"Are you going to be okay this afternoon?" she asked, still unsure about just what was going on in his head.

"I'll be fine. We, uh, we'll be out, and I won't have Ross hovering over my shoulder all afternoon."

She was quiet as they turned another corner. "Bobby, what if we find out that Colonel Sutter is, well, what if he isn't what you think he is? Suppose he did have something to do with Annie and Morris, and he's not squeaky clean?"

He looked at her sharply. "Do you believe that?"

"Not right this moment, but we have to go where the evidence takes us. I'm trying to keep an open mind. Can you do the same?"

He frowned and focused on the sidewalk in front of him. He rubbed the back of his head and neck. "I, uh, I don't know. I'm still trying to find a place for everything, Eames. It's not...It's not easy."

"I know it's not, and I wish I could make it easier for you, but you have to prepare yourself for the worst, Bobby. I don't want you blind-sided and taken down if this takes a bad turn for the colonel. I'm not saying it will, but you have to be prepared, just in case. If Ross finds out exactly who the colonel is to you, he's going to question your judgment."

"He questions my judgment now."

"It'll only get worse for you."

She knew he was more agitated now than he was before, but she'd said what had to be said. She could feel the energy humming through him so when he stopped suddenly, she was surprised. He looked around as he led her to a doorway away from the pulsing flow of pedestrian traffic. "What if...What if I lose my way?" he asked, his voice urgent, driven by a legitimate concern.

Concerned by the worry she saw in his eyes, she reached out and touched his cheek. "I'll be there," she replied earnestly. "I won't let you get lost; I'll show you the way."

_Trust me_, whispered her voice in his head. She'd never let him down, and when he did place his trust in her, she hadn't disappointed him. Impulsively, he leaned in and gave her a brief but meaningful kiss, surprising her. He was normally very guarded when they were anywhere near 1PP, careful to keep his emotions in check as best he could. But she understood how overwhelmed he was and the kiss somehow settled his nerves. She gave him a brief smile and, without meaning to, a look that set fire to his soul. He stepped back while he still could and she stepped out of the shelter of the doorway.

Giving him another smile meant to offer encouragement and support, she said, "Let's go back and I'll run up and get the files. We'll head back over to Chinatown. I don't think it will do you any good at all to have to handle Ross all afternoon. Just wait for me at the car."

He nodded as they changed direction and walked back toward 1 PP. Distracted by the case and by Goren's unsettled emotions, neither of them saw the man who had followed them from the headquarters building. He hadn't been close enough to hear them, but he'd seen everything. He successfully hid himself when they walked back in his direction and he followed them back to headquarters.


	13. Busted

They went their separate ways once they arrived back at 1 PP, Eames walking to the elevators and Goren heading into the parking garage. He found the SUV where she usually parked it and leaned back against it, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. Shaking one loose, he replaced the pack, pulled out a lighter and lit the cigarette, trying to calm himself as his thoughts wandered.

Normally, his mind would be focused only on the case, but at the moment, Eames occupied his thoughts. He wondered if the distraction she provided was a good thing or not. It didn't really matter because, good or not, she was there and, right then, the case was not. But this was not a normal case for him. The personal turn it had taken knocked him for a loop and drove him into his partner's arms. She comforted and calmed him. That couldn't be a bad thing.

Almost finished with his smoke, he heard a noise off to his left, loud enough to draw him from his thoughts, and a familiar voice said, "So...you and Eames, huh?"

He almost swallowed his cigarette. Dropping it to the ground, he crushed it beneath his shoe and turned toward the owner of the voice. Standing not ten feet away, Logan grinned at him and wriggled his eyebrows suggestively. Regaining his composure quickly, Goren asked, "Me and Eames what?"

"Don't give me that 'who me?' crap, Goren. I saw everything."

Goren wasn't sure what he saw or when, and he became nervous, which was difficult to hide from Logan, who knew him fairly well. "Yeah? Just what do you think you saw?"

"Enough."

Goren watched him move closer as panic flashed through his head. Chasing it away, he snorted. "Enough what?"

"Enough to give some real credence to those rumors I've heard since I joined the squad."

Struggling to maintain his composure, Goren frowned. "They're just rumors. They don't mean a damn thing."

"Come on, Goren," Logan answered when he realized the man wasn't going to admit to anything. He wasn't at all surprised. "You're good. You both are. Nothing I've ever seen between you has done anything to confirm my suspicions, until today." Logan leaned in closer. "I saw it, buddy. You're busted."

"'It?' What the hell is 'it?'"

Moving closer still, taking himself into Goren's personal space, Logan leaned close and softly confessed, "I saw you kiss her, man. Be careful where you make out. You're lucky it was only me who saw you.""

Goren scowled at him. "We weren't making out," he protested, drifting toward anger to hide his panic.

"Call it what you want; I know what I saw."

"You don't know..." he protested, but he really didn't have a valid argument to dispute Logan's claim, or a valid explanation to dismiss what he saw as something else.

Logan placed his hand on Goren's shoulder. "Relax, Bobby. Your secret is safe with me, I promise. And all I really have to say is: it's about damn time."

Reassured by Logan's promise and the sincerity he read in his tone and gestures, Goren felt his panic recede and vanish. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean that since I've gotten to know you, I've seen it. You're in love with her, and it's about time you made your move."

"My move? Mike...I, uhm, I don't...I didn't...it wasn't a move. It was...it's complicated. I, uh, I can't explain it right now, not here."

Logan chuckled. "I love it when you're tongue-tied. Come on, Bobby, I've seen the way you look at her when you think no one is watching. You don't have to explain."

"Does anyone else...?"

Logan shook his head. "No, I don't think so. No one else knows you like I do. Most of the time, they don't really pay attention to you. But I'm your friend and I want you to know that, so..."

Goren wasn't as agitated, but he was still nervous. When he pulled the cigarettes from his pocket, his hands were shaking and he dropped the pack. Logan leaned over and picked it up, shaking out a cigarette for him. With a nod, Goren took the cigarette and managed to light it without setting his face on fire. He took the pack from Logan and put it in his pocket.

"When did it start?" Logan asked.

"Uhm...Saturday. Saturday night."

"Humph. I would have thought sooner. What brought it on?"

Goren took a deep drag of his cigarette, exhaling slowly. "It's...complicated."

Logan laughed. "Buddy, everything about you is complicated."

"Can we...discuss it later?" Goren asked, looking toward the elevators from which Eames had just emerged.

Logan didn't have to look to know that he'd spotted Eames. "Sure. Tonight?"

When Goren hesitated, Logan grinned. "It doesn't bother me if she's there."

"No, but it might bother her to have you there."

He clapped his hand on Goren's shoulder. "Call me."

Finally, he stepped away, turning as Eames approached. "Logan," she said by way of greeting.

"Eames," he replied with a smile as he walked past her.

She watched him walk away before turning to her partner. "What's with him?"

"What do you mean?"

"That cat-that-ate-the-canary look on his face."

Goren shrugged. "It's..." he trailed off, not sure exactly what to say.

Now she studied her partner. "Something I should know?"

"Uh, well...yes."

"Okay, out with it."

"He knows...about us, I mean. He, uhm...he...saw us...today."

"You mean he was spying on us?"

"He was...curious."

"I'll kill him."

Goren smiled and dropped his cigarette butt on the ground, stepping on it as he moved closer to her. "I don't think we have to worry."

"What makes you say that? Logan might be as big a gossip as anyone."

Shaking his head, he answered, "No. Logan's loyal, and he's my friend. He won't say anything."

"Can you guarantee that?"

Goren looked toward the elevators. "I let him walk away and I didn't threaten him. A drinking buddy, and a real friend, keeps his pal's secrets."

"I had no idea you were that close to him. You trust Logan with this?"

He met her eyes. "What choice do I have? I kissed you and he saw it. But, yeah—I trust him with this. He's not going to spread it around."

That was good enough for her. His trust, rarely given, was never misplaced. Although she had questioned his judgment with Frank, she now knew him well enough to understand and to know that Frank had earned that trust. Logan must have as well. "Okay, then. Let's get going." She opened the driver's door and looked at him once they were in the car. "But I reserve the right to kneecap him if he screws this up for us."

He smiled at her empty threat. Though she wouldn't admit it, she liked Logan. "He won't. He, uhm, he understands how...how important you are to me."

She didn't look away as she started the engine. "That's big, Bobby. No one understands you."

"You do...and so does he."

She studied him a moment longer before she shifted into reverse and backed out of the spot. "Logan, huh?"

"You don't know him."

"I'll have to change that."

Now they both had something to think about as they drove to Chinatown.

* * *

_Asia on Your Doorstep_ was just as busy as it had been earlier in the day. A young woman approached them after several minutes. "Can I help you find something?"

"As a matter of fact, you can," Eames replied, showing her badge.

The girl's face blanched. "You were here before. You took Rodney away."

Goren bent at the waist so he could see the girl's face. "Have you worked here long?"

She nodded. "Seven years."

"We'd like to talk to you."

She was charmed by his gentle manner and the kindness in his tone, a very different approach than the one he'd taken with Rodney. With a nod, she led them across the store into a back office.

She sat behind the desk as the two detectives sat in the chairs across from her. "Where is Rodney?" she asked, though it was clear that concern did not drive her curiosity.

"He's going to be our guest for a little while," Eames answered.

Although the woman gave her a courtesy glance, her interest, and thus her attention, was focused on Goren. Eames let him take the lead. "You are?" he asked.

"My name is Nora Wu."

"What do you think of Annie Kim?" he asked.

"I like Annie very much. She is a kind woman." She smiled. "Whenever she goes on a trip, she always brings back something for my little girl. She's thoughtful."

"What about Rodney? Does he like her, too?"

"Oh, my goodness, no. Rodney hates Annie and everyone knows it. He resents her because he wanted to be the store manager permanently."

"So he's ambitious?"

"I don't know about that. I do know that before she came along, Rodney kept the books and he hated it when she took over."

"Why is that?"

She hesitated. "Nothing was proven, but we had our suspicions."

"He was skimming from the profits?"

She nodded. "We think he was."

"And Colonel Sutter tolerated that?"

"The colonel doesn't know. We couldn't prove it, and he would have asked for proof. He's a fair man and he'd never have accused Rodney without proof."

"Was Annie afraid of Rodney?"

"No, not that I ever saw. But he was always insecure because he's the only person who works in the store who isn't Asian."

"Is that a problem?"

"Sometimes. Many of our customers avoid him because they don't trust him. You must understand—this community is very strongly ethnic. It's the largest population of ethnic Chinese outside Asia. So Chinese salespeople are trusted and preferred. And Rodney can be very abrasive."

"It sounds like this store wasn't a very good fit for him."

"It worked out when he was acting manager because he rarely had to deal with customers, but when Annie was hired, he had to return to the sales floor. He was not happy."

"How many sales associates work here?"

"Six full-time and two part-time associates, plus Annie and Morris Franklin, who is our purchasing agent. He and Annie work closely together."

Goren looked at his partner again. Eames met his eyes and he gave her a barely perceptible nod. Eames said, "What would you say if we told you that Annie and Morris are both dead?"

Nora laughed. "That's ridiculous. Don't tease me, detectives."

When their expressions remained grim, her smile faded. "You _are_ joking, aren't you? Please, tell me you're joking."

Goren shook his head slowly. "It's no joke," he said.

Nora burst into tears. Her sobs caught the attention of another employee who was walking past the office "Nora, what's wrong?"

"Eddie," she sobbed. "Eddie, Annie and Morris are dead."

He hurried around the desk and pulled Nora into his arms, looking at the detectives. "That's why you arrested Rodney," he asserted.

"Why do you say that?" Goren asked.

"We were all afraid something like this would happen."

"Your name?"

"Edward Wang."

"Tell us why you were afraid of that, Mr. Wang."

"Rodney hated Annie and Morris. It was only a matter of time before the colonel let him go. He was too volatile, too unpredictable. Annie had about all she could take of him. She was planning to talk to the colonel the next time he came to town from Long Island."

"Did Rodney know that?"

"He must have. One day last week when we were closing he got into a fight with Annie and he was screaming at her, calling her names and telling her that her days were numbered. We thought he was going to try to get her fired."

"But you're not surprised by the idea he might have killed her?"

"No, sir. Not at all."

Eames asked, "What about Morris?"

Eddie patted Nora's back as he answered, "Morris rarely spent any time in the store. He was always traveling, looking for unique items to bring back to the store."

"Our customers love the things he finds," Nora added, looking at the detectives from Eddie's protective embrace.

Eddie nodded. "They really do. I went with him on a couple of trips. He was brilliant."

"So he didn't have a relationship with Rodney?" Goren asked.

Nora gently pulled away from Eddie and they looked at each other. "We wouldn't say that," Eddie answered.

"The last time Morris was in the store, Rodney was horrible to him," Nora said.

"There's a shock," Eames muttered to her partner. "They got into an argument?"

Eddie's mouth set in a grim line. "Every conversation with Rodney seemed to end in an argument. We don't know what happened, but Rodney came out of the office, yelling at Morris and Annie both. Morris tried to calm him down."

"He tried, but that only made Rodney angrier. Calm isn't the approach to take with Rodney. He called Morris some horrible and offensive names."

Goren found himself wanting more and more to pound Rodney into kibble. "Did he threaten Morris?"

Again, Nora and Eddie exchanged looks. Nora looked back at Goren and nodded. "He called Morris a half-breed and said he was going to send him to hell to join the others."

"What did he mean by that?"

"We don't know," Eddie answered. "And no one was going to ask him to explain."

"Is it safe to assume that Rodney doesn't have many friends?" Eames asked.

"Here at the store? No," Nora replied.

"There's only one person who even kind of got along with him," Eddie added.

"Who is that?" Goren asked.

"Martin Chen," Eddie answered. "He's our newest employee. He's been with us for about a year-and-a-half. He got along okay with Rodney. I never saw them argue, anyway."

"Is he here today?" Eames asked.

Nora shook her head. "He's off today. He'll be in tomorrow."

Eames looked at her partner, reading his agitation, which he struggled to keep under control. She stood up, cuing him to do the same. He pulled out his wallet and handed his card to each of them. "We...we'll need you to come in to give us your statements."

"We will," Eddie promised. "What about the other employees?"

He nodded. "Yes, if they have anything to add. Thank you for talking to us."

As they walked through the store to the front door, Eames said, "It sounds to me like Annie should have picked up the phone and called the colonel. Why would he keep a powder keg like Rodney around?"

"Let's ask him."

He held the door open and followed her out of the store.


	14. An Unexpected Twist

As Eames drove away from the store, Goren pulled out his phone and the colonel's card. He dialed the man's home number in Montauk. A woman answered, and he heard a voice he had not heard in more than thirty years. He froze, unable to respond. The color drained from his face and he handed Eames the phone. She took it, her face filled with concern. "Hello?"

"Who is this?" the woman demanded.

"I'm sorry. My name is Detective Eames, and I work with the Major Case Squad in Manhattan. Is Colonel Sutter home?"

"What do you want with him?"

If nothing else, the colonel's wife was certainly direct. "We're investigating the deaths of two of his employees and we need to speak with him."

"Why?"

"Routine questions, Mrs. Sutter, that's all."

"Terrance isn't here. You'll have to call him in Manhattan. He left yesterday afternoon. Do you have that number?"

"Yes, ma'am. He gave us his card with his numbers. Thank you for your help."

The other line clicked as Sutter's wife hung up without a good-bye. Eames handed the phone back to her partner. "Are you okay?"

He took the phone and slipped it into his pocket, forgetting entirely that he was trying to get in touch with Sutter. He ran his hand over his face. "I...don't know."

He was still pale and his hands were shaking. Worried, Eames changed her destination and drove him home. She followed him into the building, not sure he realized she was still there. Once in his apartment, she closed and locked the door, then went into the kitchen after him.

With shaking hands, he poured himself a drink. She didn't know what to do, so she waited, following his lead. He downed the drink but when he poured a second one, she stepped forward and placed her hand on the glass. He let her take it, watching as she placed it back on the counter. He walked out of the room.

She followed him to the living room and sat on the couch, watching him pace. She knew that pacing helped him to think, and he had a lot to think about, but she also knew he was very upset and she wanted to help him.

"Talk to me," she said softly.

He was quiet but he wasn't still. He paced and rubbed the back of his neck. "That was her," he finally said. "I haven't heard her voice since I was twelve, but I remember...Thirty-two years later, I still remember."

"I don't doubt that. I know you've been struggling with this for most of your life, but I want to know what you feel right now, Bobby."

"What does that matter?"

"It matters because I asked."

He couldn't debate that, nor did he want to. There was no one in his life, beyond the brother who raised him, who cared like she did, and there was no one he wanted to be close to more than her. He walked to the couch and sat beside her. In silence, he took a few deep breaths and tried to organize his thoughts. She left him alone, waiting patiently.

"Alex," he began. "I don't know what I'm supposed to feel."

"Whatever you feel is what you're supposed to feel. There is no right or wrong here."

Silent again, he tried to identify the emotions that coursed through him. He had spent so many years manipulating, ignoring or redirecting his emotions, he wasn't sure which ones were real, so he focused on what he felt for Eames, just about the only emotion that was real to him. He began to calm.

As she watched his shoulders relax, she reached out and tenderly stroked his temple, setting him more at ease. His breathing evened out and he laid his hand on her thigh. She shifted closer, pressing her leg against his, hoping the physical connection would help him make the emotional one.

"I-I didn't expect her to answer the phone."

"She lives there."

"But they have...people to do those things."

"She has a gardener, but she still gardens."

"I don't know who she is any more, what kind of life she lives. I didn't expect her to be home. I guess...I assumed she was still in the hospital. I remember how I felt when she first got sick, how scared I was. When she disappeared, that scared feeling stayed with me for a long time. I found ways to cope, none of which were very healthy. Even now...you've seen the way I get lost in a case, the way I throw my entire self into the puzzle of it and let it take over. I learned to do that when I was young and I never had a reason to train myself not to get so...obsessed. I never had any reason not to because work was all I ever had."

She brushed her lips across his ear, encouraging him. His fingers tightened on her thigh. He was rambling, but eventually, she knew, he would work his way around to the point of it all. She stroked the back of his neck and dragged her nails across his shoulders. He loosened his tie.

"She doesn't have to...I didn't know she...answers her own phone. I guess I feel guilty about that, about not knowing..."

"Why?"

"She's my mother. I should know those things about her."

"You haven't seen her in over thirty years. How could you know? Bobby, it's not your fault she left. You have to let go of the blame. You were the innocent one."

He began to get worked up again. "How do I do that?"

"You have to find a way. There's no reason for you to carry that guilt with you."

"It's been with me all my life."

He was moments from lurching to his feet and resuming his pacing, so she slid herself onto his lap, surprising him. He couldn't control his body's reaction to her, to the weight of her body against him. Gently, her fingers worked at the knot in his tie and she slid it from under his collar. Then she unbuttoned his shirt.

"Alex..." he said when his mouth remembered how to work.

By then, his hands were busy with her clothes, too, and she silenced him with a kiss. That was the end of talking for awhile.

* * *

Emotional tension was exhausting to him. Physically, Eames worked him hard and when she was done with him, he slept hard. She went into the kitchen and fixed herself a salad. Then she used the last of the pastrami she found and the last two pieces of rye bread to fix him a sandwich. She also made a pot of coffee, the aroma of which woke him. He'd slept for half an hour and didn't feel refreshed at all. He didn't feel any of what he normally felt after sex, and that irritated him. He muttered a quiet 'thank you' when she handed him the sandwich and a cup of coffee.

She sensed his irritation and became concerned. "Was I wrong?" she asked.

"Wrong? What do you mean?"

"I didn't know a better way to reach you or to get you to relax."

"Did you sense any reluctance from me?"

She smiled. "None at all."

He leaned close and kissed her. "I don't like not being in control of myself, especially of my emotions. The past couple of days have been...difficult."

She nodded and laid her hand on his cheek. "I know."

He leaned back and rubbed his temple, his sandwich untouched. "What did she say?" he asked.

"She said the colonel is in Manhattan."

"Then we should make arrangements to talk to him."

He pulled out his phone and the colonel's card. Without waiting for an answer from her, he dialed the colonel's home number in Manhattan.

"Hello?"

He felt relief at the sound of the colonel's voice. "Colonel Sutter, this is Detective Goren."

"How are you, my boy?"

He didn't know how to answer the question so he avoided it. "Sir, we need to talk to you again."

"About Annie?"

"And Morris Franklin."

"What did Morris do?"

"He got killed, sir."

The colonel was silent. "Colonel?"

"Do you think they're related?" he asked finally.

"They could be. We, uh, we should talk."

"Do you want to come to my home or shall I meet you somewhere else?"

"We'll come to you."

"I'll be here."

"Yes, sir."

He ended the call and dropped his phone on the coffee table, next to his sandwich. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Eames moved closer. "Bobby?"

He waved his hand and sat forward. "We, uhm, we should go and talk to Colonel Sutter."

She grasped his arm. "You need to eat. You haven't eaten all day."

"Alex..."

"Please. For me?"

His eyes roamed over her face before he leaned in and kissed her. She laid her hand on his cheek and he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. When he released her, he whispered, "Okay. For you."

She smiled which drew a smile from him. He ate his sandwich and then they left, driving back to Manhattan to meet with Colonel Sutter.

* * *

The colonel opened the door himself when they arrived, inviting them in. Dressed in white—polo shirt, shorts, socks, sneakers—he looked ready to play tennis. He invited the detectives in and led them to a large sitting room. As with his home in Montauk, the room was adorned with family pictures. Eames sat on a small sofa as the colonel took his seat in an easy chair across from her. He turned to watch Goren look at the pictures on the mantle and the walls. Looking at Eames, the colonel asked, "How is he?"

Sensitive to being discussed by others in his presence as though he was not there, particularly since Ross took over the squad, Goren answered for her. "_He_ is fine."

Sutter looked at Eames, who shook her head to indicate he wasn't exactly telling the truth. The colonel nodded acknowledgment. He very much wanted to talk with Eames about his wife's son, but he knew it would have to wait.

The decor of the home was very similar to that of the Sutter estate in East Hampton. There were many more family photos than at their summer home, and a toybox sat in one corner. He saw pictures of the step-sister and brother he never knew he had with the mother they shared and the father he had been deprived of by his mother's illness. They were pictures of a happy family, smiling and laughing and being together. He'd never known a family life like theirs. He turned away abruptly, his gut in a tight knot as his frayed emotions threatened to unravel. "Colonel," he began, trying to contain his struggle. "Rodney Wilcox..."

When Goren trailed off, Sutter looked at Eames. Her attention was focused on her partner, which increased Sutter's concern for the younger man. Goren refocused himself, trying to suppress the reaction the pictures had stirred in him. "We...brought him in and are holding him on suspicion of murder. We haven't charged him yet, but after talking with his co-workers at the store, we now have grounds to do so."

Sutter frowned. "Rodney?"

"That surprises you."

"What have the others told you?"

"They said he is an angry man, that he hated Annie and Morris," Eames answered. "None of them seemed surprised that we suspected him of killing them."

Sutter gave that some thought before he answered, "Rodney is a hothead, I agree, but murder?"

"He resents being passed over for manager," Goren said.

"Of course he does, but Annie was the better choice."

"Was Rodney doctoring the books?"

"Is that what they told you?"

Goren met the colonel's eyes, and Sutter shook his head. "Rodney never kept the books. I did, until I hired Annie, which was just over two years ago."

"So no money went missing from the store?"

"Of course not."

"Why was Annie the better choice?" Goren asked.

Sutter sighed. "Annie is much better with people, better with the staff, and they like her. Rodney, in case you couldn't tell, is not a people person."

Goren smiled. "We noticed."

Sutter returned his smile, relieved to see him calming down. "Sometimes Rodney makes a poor impression on people."

"Rodney has anger issues and a violent temper," Goren said, studying the colonel more closely. "Who is he to you, colonel?"

"How'd you know?"

"He's still working for you."

Sutter smiled again. He was growing more and more fond of Goren with each encounter. "Fair enough. Rodney is my nephew. My wife's favorite, actually. He spent every summer out on the Island with us from the time he was about five. Yes, he has anger and interpersonal issues, but some of it is an act to keep people at a distance. He resented Annie and Morris, but he also knew why I hired them. He's not a killer, detectives."

"Do the other employees know he's your nephew?" Goren asked, not surprised by the colonel's confession.

"No, they don't."

"Colonel," Eames said. "Rodney gave us no indication he has a personal relationship with you. In fact, he accused Annie of sleeping with you to get her job."

Sutter looked surprised, then thoughtful. "He did? Hmm. Rodney has never challenged me or questioned my decisions. He must resent my decision more than I realized."

"Or maybe he's embarrassed that you chose to bring in someone else rather than let him stay manager. It would have been worse if the others knew you're his uncle," Goren offered.

"You're very insightful, Robert, and very intelligent," he said with a hint of pride that made Eames smile.

"How long has Rodney worked for you?" she asked.

"About seven years. He attended college until he was twenty-one, but he didn't graduate. He wasn't committed to earning a degree. When I told him it was time to quit changing majors and buckle down, he responded angrily. So I let him know he had to pay his own way after four years, and he decided it wasn't something he really wanted in the first place. It's often a battle to get Rodney to admit responsibility for anything. He finally confessed that he wasn't cut out for college."

Goren showed interest in Sutter's interpretation of Rodney's behavior. "A lot of students change majors, colonel."

"True. But it's not like he was going from English to History to Psychology. He started out as a chemistry major. Then he switched to math, then business, then French, then philosophy...get the picture?"

Amused, Goren nodded. "It would have been like starting over each time he changed majors. None of his core classes would have been the same."

"Exactly. He was all over the place. He just...he doesn't know what he wants to do with himself."

"It's not just his attitude we have a problem with, sir. Rodney has no alibi," Goren added. "At least, not one that he'll give us."

Clearly frustrated, Sutter exhaled heavily and rubbed his head. "When was Morris killed?"

"Sometime late yesterday afternoon or early in the evening."

Sutter shook his head. "Yesterday at about noon, Rodney picked my wife up from the hospital and brought her home. My daughter arrived in Montauk yesterday with my little grandson because her mother was coming home. Rodney didn't kill Morris. He wasn't in the city."

"And Annie?"

"When was she killed?"

"Thursday night."

"That's right—the UN party. I'm sorry. I don't have an alibi for him that night. But that doesn't mean he doesn't have one. Rodney has always resented false accusations. He becomes righteously indignant and refuses to discuss the reasons why he couldn't have done it. He expects people to take him at his word and reacts with rage when they don't. I know it's your job to question everything, and it's in Rodney's nature to be uncooperative, and to fault others for his own shortcomings."

"That's not the stand to take in a police investigation," Eames said. "That raises a stadium full of red flags with us."

"I know, and I understand where you're coming from, believe me. But maybe a little background will give you some insight to Rodney's behavior. My sister was a single parent and Rodney is her only child. I'm afraid she spoiled him terribly and coddled him throughout his childhood. She still does, in fact. She has never made him take responsibility for his actions. So, in many ways, Rodney is still very much a spoiled mother's boy. I was not so lenient, and he responds very differently when he is around me. But I wasn't around all the time when he was growing up, and I can't be with him all the time now. If you want me to help you talk to him, I would be glad to. I'll do whatever I can for the boy, to a point."

"And what's that point?" Goren asked, genuinely curious.

"I had a hand in raising him, but his temper and his attitude were beyond my control. His father left when he was five, which is one reason he came to stay with us during the summer. His mother is a teacher, and she chose to spend her summers out of state, being, uhm, indiscreet. During the school year, I was around, but not enough to provide the consistent discipline he needed. My sister, I'm afraid, did not discipline Rodney because she felt guilty that his father left. I was unable to undo the damage his mother did with her constant catering to him. Rodney grew up expecting the world to bow to him as his mother always had. It's been a hard lesson for him, seeing how the real world works. I'm afraid my wife spoiled him as much as his mother did, and I had to choose my battles. Unfortunately for Rodney, the battles I chose involved my own children. It was too much of an uphill battle for me to take on Rodney and his mothers. They can be formidable adversaries. Missy and Ethan turned out well, but Rodney has more issues than I can address."

"When are you going back out to Montauk?" Eames asked.

"Friday morning."

Seeing that her partner was starting to get restless again, Eames got to her feet. "Thank you for talking to us, colonel."

He shook her hand. "Anything I can do," he assured her.

Goren followed her to the door without saying anything to Sutter, who accompanied them. Eames opened the door and stepped onto the porch, but Goren turned back to Sutter in the doorway. "Could you meet us tomorrow morning at 9? The Major Case Squad, 11th floor at One Police Plaza."

"I'll be there."

Goren started to turn away, then hesitated and turned back toward the colonel. "Uhm, colonel, did you...did you tell her...about Frank and me?"

"Not yet, son. The doctors advised me to wait, to allow them to prepare her. I'll let you know when I tell her."

He hesitated for a moment before following Eames out the door. "Robert," the colonel called to him. He turned. Reaching out, Sutter placed his hand on Goren's shoulder. "You have my word. I will tell her. But some things must be handled gently with her, and this is one of those things. You understand that, don't you?"

Goren nodded. "I understand. I also don't expect much, sir. After all, she left, and it was her choice to do so. Have a good afternoon."

He walked past Eames down the steps toward the car. She watched with a pained expression. Sutter held out a business card to her. "My cell phone number is on the back. Would you please call me when you have a chance?"

"I will, colonel."

She walked away, pocketing the card as she joined her partner at the black SUV. As they got into the car, Sutter stepped back into his home and closed the door.


	15. Trust Squared

As they drove away from the Upper East Side, Eames' phone rang. She pulled it out and passed it to her partner, who looked at the caller ID and groaned. He answered the call. "Goren."

There was a pause before Ross said, "I thought I called Eames' phone."

"She's driving."

"You never came back after lunch, detective, so I called for a status report on your case. I need something to tell the mayor. Put her on."

With a huff of annoyance, he handed the phone to Eames. "He wants an update."

"And you can't give it to him?"

"You're the senior partner. He wants it from you."

She sighed and took the phone, wondering if he and Ross were ever going to be comfortable with each other. Okay, maybe comfortable was too strong a word... "Eames."

"How is it going, Eames?"

"We've run into complications, captain. Apparently, Rodney Wilcox has an alibi for Morris Franklin's murder and possibly for Annie Kim's as well. We're going to talk to him again in the morning. We'll probably have to release him."

"How good is his alibi?"

"It's solid. He wasn't even in the city when Morris was killed."

"Why didn't he tell you he had an alibi, then?"

"It's a personality thing, sir. My partner can explain it."

"Just have him put it in his report. So that brings your suspect pool down to...?"

"Zero."

"You're going in the wrong direction, detective. I need something encouraging to tell the mayor."

"We're going where the evidence takes us, captain. Tell the mayor we can't arrest an innocent man just to cover the fact that we don't have a suspect yet."

"I'll put it in more encouraging terms. Head back in the other direction and make progress again."

"I never said we weren't making progress. We still have leads. We'll go to the UN tomorrow and talk to the Secretary-General, find out what he can tell us."

"Just...make sure you keep your partner on a short leash."

"He'll be fine."

"See that he is. Remember what I said about not creating an international incident."

"Don't worry, captain."

"I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Annoyed, she set the phone on the console between them. Goren was watching her, disbelief on his face and in his tone. "The Secretary-General? Where did that come from? We're not ready for him yet."

"Well, we'd better get ready. I had to tell him something."

"And that's what you came up with?"

"What would you have told him?"

"I don't know, but the UN wouldn't have been the first place my mind went. He doesn't want me to go, does he?"

"He's concerned about the delicacy of the situation, that's all. And he wants me to keep you on a short leash."

"Oh. Well, we can pick one up in the morning."

She laughed softly. "Want to go to my place tonight?" she asked.

He hesitated long enough for her to know he was reluctant, so she said, "It's okay, Bobby. Never mind..."

"No, I...uh, I mean, Logan was going to come over."

"So then I'll drop you off at your place and you can hang out with him. I just need to go home for clean clothes. If you want me to, I'll come back."

"What do you want to do?" he asked, taking her hand in his and tenderly kissing her palm.

She made a quiet noise and said, "It's not fair to ask me that when you're doing _that_."

"Do you want to come back?" he asked as he switched to caressing her arm.

"I want to be with you," she confessed.

"I...I'd rather be with you at my place," he admitted.

She nodded. "I understand. You're more comfortable there."

"That's only part of it." He continued stroking her arm as he talked, with her hand resting on his thigh. He found the contact both calming and comforting. "I keep to myself for the most part, so my neighbors don't really have a lot to do with me, unless they need something because I'm a cop. And I'm okay with that. But you...you're friends with your neighbors, and they would notice me hanging around. I don't want to cause any trouble for you with them. It's just...better...if we stay at my place."

"Do you think I'm ashamed to be seen with you?"

"No. Well, I hope not..."

"I'm not," she asserted. "Besides, my neighbors know who you are."

He held her hand and settled into a thoughtful silence. After a few minutes, she gently squeezed his hand. "It's okay, Bobby. I know that you're more comfortable at your place. Besides, your bed is bigger and more comfortable than mine. Given the choice of being in Brooklyn in a big, cozy bed with you to keep me warm or being in Queens alone with nothing but memories to remind me of what it was like to be loved...well, I'll choose Brooklyn every time."

Her words had more of an impact than she expected. When she stopped at the next light, he leaned over and kissed her. He took her breath away. The light changed as he moved back to his side of the car and she sat there until the car behind her honked. She proceeded through the intersection but she didn't say anything more until she pulled up in front of his building. Shifting the car into park, she turned toward him, studying him for a few minutes. "Unless you really want us to hit a parked car," she said lightly. "Don't do that again."

He smiled, and she leaned toward him. He met her halfway, kissing her deeply. As she pulled back, he softly murmured, "I love you."

He got out of the car and was halfway to the building before she recovered. She watched him enter the building as she pulled out her phone. After texting _I love you, too_, she pulled away from the curb and drove off, wondering why he hadn't waited for her reply.

* * *

A few blocks away from Goren's apartment, Eames pulled over and withdrew the colonel's card from her pocket. She called the number he'd given her and waited for him to answer.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Colonel Sutter. This is Detective Eames. You asked me to call you."

"Yes, detective. Thank you. I wanted to talk with you about Robert."

"I figured as much."

She could hear the smile in his voice. "You're very direct, much like his mother. This discovery has been difficult for him."

"You have no idea."

"I can see the anger in him, the confusion and the hurt. I understand everything he feels and I'm concerned about him. He claims he is fine, but I know he isn't. So I wanted to hear from you how he's doing."

"He's struggling. When he thought his mother was dead, he could forgive her for leaving. To find out that she left and found a whole new, better life, that's hard for him to come to terms with."

"I understand completely, and I feel incredibly guilty about it."

"I don't think he blames you, colonel."

"I wouldn't blame him if he did." He paused. "I get the impression he is close to you. After what happened to him when he was so young, I'm relieved to see that he has a relationship that is more than superficial."

"Most of his relationships _are_ superficial. It's taken me years to get where I am with him. He doesn't trust people. He isn't able to invest himself completely in another person."

"His defenses must be solidly in place and nearly impossible to breach. Yet you have managed to do so."

"Yes, I have, but it took a lot of time and a lot of patience."

"You watch out for him, don't you?"

"Yes, I do."

"So you'll make sure he's all right?"

"Always, colonel."

Sutter paused. "Telling my wife is going to be a very delicate matter and may very well lead to another hospital stay for her. But it will be even more difficult to convince her sons that the circumstances surrounding her disappearance and the reasons she never came home were beyond anyone's control. It had everything to do with her disease and nothing to do with them."

"I'm not sure you will ever convince them completely. Bobby especially carries a heavy burden of blame."

"Do you know his brother?"

"I do. Bobby is very close to Frank. He's never forgotten all that Frank did for him, all the trouble he caused his brother. But Bobby is the one who pulled his life together and did something good with it. He has a good heart, colonel, and he's a good man. Frank got caught up in a dark world after Bobby graduated from high school. He's addicted to drugs and gambling. It's a path my partner could very well have taken, one he started down and managed to escape, but only barely."

"He got involved with drugs and alcohol when he was a teenager, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did. He was a troublemaker, but Frank somehow managed to keep him under control enough to avoid juvenile detention and foster care. It wasn't easy for either of them. Frank took a lot on his shoulders and Bobby rebelled hard. As adults, though, they switched roles."

"What saved him?" Sutter asked, knowing it would not have been within his own skill set for Goren to save himself.

"The Army did. I don't know why he enlisted or how he ended up with CID, but he did and that was about the only thing that kept him from following in Frank's footsteps, or worse. But in many ways, he saved himself, which was no small feat. Bobby has a brilliant mind and a natural ability to read behavior. He has difficulty turning his insight in his own direction, even now, but somehow he managed to pull himself out of a self-destructive spiral that started when his mother disappeared. The Army alone couldn't have done that if he hadn't been willing to help himself."

Sutter felt a surge of pride—first, for his wife's son, who saved himself from a very dark future, and secondly, for the Army and the role it played in steering a troubled young man from a life of crime. "I wish I had known about him and Frank. You have no idea how much I regret that I never found out the truth of their fate."

"I'm not the one you have to convince of that, colonel."

"He's going to need you even more as this progresses."

"Yes, I know. Now, I have a question for you."

"Go ahead."

"You told us that you met his mother when she tried to steal a statue from one of your stores."

"That's right."

"That was thirty-two years ago. When did you start in the import business?"

"My father had an antique store in Bay Ridge. When he died, as the eldest son, I inherited the responsibility for it. I was twenty and a junior at NYU when he died. I managed the store until I graduated and had to fulfill the terms of my ROTC scholarship. So my brother took over the store and managed it under my direction, which enabled me to stay in the Army, make a career of it. We were a great team, and we expanded the business and amassed a nice fortune. Over time, we added more stores and were able to branch off into ethnic specialties, which I very much enjoyed. We were equal partners until he died in a car accident ten years ago. When I met Frankie, I was home on leave. A year later, she married me. I've taken care of her ever since, and she's given me a beautiful family and enriched my life. I'm a fortunate man and have few regrets. My biggest one, now that I know, is not being there for her sons."

"Thank you for your candor. I'm glad we didn't have this conversation where my partner could overhear us. He needs to deal with this in small doses."

"I agree with you. Thank you for calling me—and for watching out for him."

"You don't have to thank me for that. Have a good night, Colonel Sutter."

She dropped her phone on the passenger seat and pulled back into traffic. All the way home she thought about Sutter and how difficult it would be for Goren if the colonel turned out to be involved in the murders they were investigating. She prayed hard that he was not, for Goren's sake. She hurried every chance she got, driven by a need to see Goren and be with him. She wondered if he felt the same.

* * *

When Logan got to Goren's, the door was unlocked, which was usually the case when Goren was expecting him. He found his friend at the table, with his case file spread out in front of him. He was working on his third beer.

Goren waved toward the refrigerator without looking up. "Help yourself," he said.

Logan grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and joined him at the table. He picked up one of the crime scene pictures. Being in between cases, he took an immediate interest in Goren's case. "Is this that gun statue at the UN?"

"Yeah. The body was found beneath it."

"Let me guess. Cause of death was a gunshot wound."

"To the chest."

"Nice statement."

Goren pulled out one of the pictures of Morris Franklin's crime scene and handed it over. Logan raised his eyebrows. "Rockefellar Center?"

"Yeah, with a gunshot wound to the back of the head, execution style."

"You think it's the same perp?"

"I don't know. The victims both worked at the same import store in Chinatown. She managed the store and he did fieldwork, scouting out the items they sold. Also, they were both at the UN the night she was killed. The owner of the store was invited to a function at the UN. He sent them in his place. So there are a lot of connections between them, but not between the crime scenes."

"So maybe you're dealing with different perps working for the same boss."

Goren gave that some thought before making a note in his binder. "We have no clear motive yet," he said, shuffling through some of the papers. "They were both liked among their co-workers. Aside from a couple of parking tickets, neither of them has ever had any run-ins with the police. Customs has a long history with Morris and a much shorter one with Annie, but they have nothing on either of them—they do everything by the book. We keep running into dead ends."

"I thought you were close to making an arrest."

"That went belly-up this afternoon. We found out the guy has an alibi."

"Have you looked at the guy they work for?"

Goren nodded. "Yeah. He's a retired Army colonel. Clean as a whistle." He pulled out an envelope, which he opened, removing another stack of papers. "I had a buddy who's still in CID do a little digging for me. He came up empty. The colonel's record is loaded with commendations and he has a chest full of medals, but not a single LOR. There are a couple of notations about things that happened with his wife and one incident involving his son that was resolved, but the colonel is squeaky clean."

Logan noticed a change in him when he talked about the colonel. "What's up?"

"What do you mean?"

"This colonel may be clean, but there's something there. Look at you. You're about ready to bounce apart at the seams. What's with that?"

Goren shook his head. "It's nothing...nothing to do with the case."

"Then what?"

"It's personal. I have some things to work out."

"Does it have anything to do with Eames?"

"What? No...no, Eames and I are fine. This is...more personal than that."

"More personal than sex? How do you get more personal than that?"

Goren's agitation increased and he finished off his beer. When he got up to throw away the bottle, he got down a glass and a bottle of scotch. Logan knew that something was wrong at that point. "Hey, I didn't mean to upset you," he insisted as Goren filled the tumbler and took a drink. "You sure everything's okay with you and Eames?"

"Yeah, we're okay. This has nothing to do with her."

"Then what's got you all bent out of shape?"

Goren returned to his seat. "Nothing. Can we just talk about the case?"

"That's what we were doing when you got upset."

"Mike, please. Just drop it."

Logan raised his hand. "Okay, okay. But if you want to talk, you know where I am."

"Thanks."

Goren returned his attention to the files on the table, but his focus was gone and that irritated him. It returned to a degree over the next hour-and-a-half as he and Logan reviewed the details of the case. He took notes of the things that came up that he wanted to further investigate. He was able to detach himself enough to discuss Sutter as far as his involvement went without getting too bent out of shape, but he refilled his glass a couple of times and Logan concluded with certainty that his agitation had something to do with Sutter.

Finally, Goren pushed away from the table and moved into the living room. Logan followed him. He was less agitated, but that had more to do with the whiskey than anything else. Goren set his glass on the coffee table and dropped onto the couch while Logan sat in the easy chair with a fresh beer.

"You gonna tell me what's got you all bent out of shape?"

Goren picked up his glass. He'd had enough scotch, coupled with his trust level of Logan, to loosen his tongue. "Colonel Sutter..." he began, taking a drink. "He, uh, his wife...his wife is my mother."

Surprised, Logan leaned forward. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"I thought she died when you were a kid."

"That was the presumption. Frank finally convinced me of it because he believed it. He couldn't imagine that she would have just disappeared and never come home unless she was dead. So I never challenged it when I became an adult. Maybe I was just afraid of the truth."

"Do you know what happened?"

"She had a psychotic break. She told the colonel that we died in a fire and he never looked into it because he was afraid she had started the fire. He's spent the last thirty-two years protecting and taking care of her."

"Wow...this is huge for you. What are you gonna do?"

"I don't know. He's working with her doctors to figure out the best way to tell her. After that...I guess we'll see."

"No wonder you freaked out. If you need anything, or if I can help in any way, just give me a call."

"Thanks, Mike."

He took another drink and stretched out on the couch. Mike picked up a magazine and left him alone. Within the next ten minutes, Goren was asleep.

* * *

It was after nine when Eames returned to her partner's apartment. Pulling her bag out of the car, she went into the building and up to the apartment. When she knocked, there was no answer, but after her second knock, the door opened. She smiled at the sleepy look on his face and suppressed an urge to throw herself into his arms. "I didn't mean to wake you," she said.

He leaned down and gave her a gentle kiss, taking her bag from her hand. He crossed the living room, where Logan sat in the easy chair, grinning at her, and disappeared down the hall to his bedroom. As she sat on the couch, Logan said, "So...you and Goren, huh?"

"Shut up, Logan."

He laughed. "Hey, I think it's a good thing. He needs someone to make him happy. He deserves that."

She agreed with him on that. Goren did deserve to be happy, and if she was the one who made him happy, so much the better. At least she understood him, which was half the battle.

Goren came back into the room with a glass of red wine in one hand and a beer in the other. He handed Logan the beer and held the glass of wine out to Eames. Then he sat beside her and lifted his own glass from the coffee table. She realized she had some catching up to do, but decided not to try keeping up with her partner. Instead, she picked up the remote, turned on the television and slid close to him. When he put his arm around her and pulled her against his side, she knew that Logan was safe. If Goren was comfortable enough displaying his affection for her with Logan sitting right there in the room, she knew she could trust Logan as well. She'd never seen that level of trust from her partner for anyone except Frank and herself, and that made her like Logan a little more.

She held her glass in front of her as she began flipping through the channels. Logan got up and dimmed the lights, returning to the easy chair. Goren's hand, which had settled on her waist, slipped under her shirt and he began to lightly caress her side and her belly. She felt an ember begin to glow in the center of her body, stoked by his caresses.

She stopped on an action movie, the name of which she didn't know, and the remote slid from her hand to the floor, unnoticed. She leaned her head back, and he began to kiss her, hungry and eager. Forgetting that Logan was still in the room, she responded to him as the fire grew inside her, burning with restless energy.

Overwhelmed by a desire he wasn't sure he could control, Goren turned more fully toward her. His hands roamed freely over her skin and her reaction to his touch drove him on. He swallowed a quiet groan, but part of it slipped out and, again, she responded strongly.

Logan glanced over when he heard a quiet grunt from his friend, and he smiled. _Time to head home_, he decided. If he stayed, he felt fairly certain Eames' morning after reaction would be distinctly unpleasant for him, though he was tempted. He got up and walked to the door, looking back to confirm that they had not noticed he was leaving. His smile widened. "Good for you, buddy," he whispered as he opened the door.

He was going to give Eames hell in the morning.


	16. Back to Square One

Colonel Sutter was already there when Goren and Eames arrived in the morning. Goren looked at his watch. "I told him nine, didn't I?" he asked. It was eight-fifteen, which was late for Goren.

"That's what I heard."

Logan came out of the interview room when he saw them. "I didn't think you wanted him in an interrogation room," he said to Goren. "He's only been here about fifteen minutes, and he told me he was early. I got him a cup of coffee and made him comfortable. I figured you'd be a little late."

Goren grinned at his comment and the teasing smirk on his face. "Thanks, Mike."

On his way back to his desk, Logan passed behind Eames. "I like your hangover prevention method," he murmured near her ear. "I'd like to try it sometime."

"Over my dead body," she hissed, and he laughed.

She glared at him as he returned to his desk. Goren, busy gathering his notes, missed the brief interaction between his partner and his friend, so when he heard Logan laugh, he looked up and saw her expression. He looked over at Logan, who was still grinning, and turned back to Eames. "What'd I miss?"

Her face relaxed into a smile that Logan couldn't see. "Nothing. Let's go talk to the colonel before we bring him in to see Rodney."

With a puzzled frown, Goren looked over at Logan again, then he followed her into the interview room. "Good morning, colonel," he said as he and Eames sat down across from the colonel.

"Good morning, detectives."

Goren opened his binder and looked through the notes he'd written the night before when he reviewed the case with Logan. It helped to get another perspective, especially since he was still trying to recover from the personal turmoil the case had caused for him. "There are a couple of things we'd like to clarify before we go in to talk to Rodney. Can you verify his whereabouts on Monday?"

"Yes. He was seen by plenty of people. When he picked up my wife, he had to sign her discharge papers. My copy of them is in my desk out on Long Island, but you are welcome to them. I can fax a copy to you when I get home on Friday."

Goren nodded. "That'll be fine."

Sutter leaned forward, resting his arms in front of him on the table. "Which employees in the Asia store did you talk to?"

Goren hesitated, taking time to read the man. He saw no undue concern in the colonel that would indicate deception. He was appropriately worried about his nephew and genuinely interested in the investigation. He wanted to know who had killed his people. Goren flipped over a page of his notes. "Uhm, Nora Wu and...Eddie Wang. We, uhm, we're going to talk to Martin Chen later today. According to Nora and Eddie, Martin is the only one in the store who doesn't hate Rodney. Is there anything we should know about your employees?"

Sutter frowned a little. "Nothing I can think of. They're good people. Most of them have been with me for years. I take care of my employees with good wages and a full benefits package, and my turnover rate is very low. I have a store in Brighton Beach that specializes in Russian items. The manager of the store just graduated from NYU with a business degree. I helped pay his tuition when his scholarships didn't cover the entire amount. I care about the people who work for me."

Goren nodded as he wrote in his binder, further impressed by the colonel's kind and generous nature. Of course, he was also going verify the colonel's claims because that was his job. He knew better than to take anything in an investigation at face value. Eames watched him write, and she knew he was going to follow up on everything the colonel disclosed. Once again, she found herself praying that the colonel was as genuine as he seemed. She wasn't sure how Goren would take it if Sutter wasn't what he appeared to be, and she didn't want find out. He'd suffered enough. Goren looked up from his binder and said, "Nora and Eddie had only good things to say about you." He paused. "Who is going to take over Annie and Morris's positions?"

"I don't know yet. The hiring process is long and tedious."

"You won't promote from within?"

"No. I need people with different experience in those positions than any of my salespeople have."

"Do they know that?"

"Yes, they do."

Eames asked, "Colonel, does it bother you that none of the other employees like your nephew?"

Sutter didn't answer immediately. After taking time to consider how to answer her question, he said, "I love him like a son, Detective Eames, and there's nothing I wouldn't do for him, but I can't make friends for him. Rodney's behavior has always alienated him from his peer group. Not many people are able to push past the facade and get to know the man behind it. Not many people try, and those that do get pushed away. Few of them push back. He doesn't have many friends, as you can imagine."

"I can," Goren said. "We should talk to him, find out for certain what he was doing the night Annie was killed."

Sutter nodded, but before he got up from the table, he said, "When I spoke with my wife last night, she told me she received a call from a city detective. She didn't get a name, didn't even tell me if she talked to a man or a woman. Which one of you called?"

"I did," Goren answered. "But my partner talked to her."

Sutter studied the younger man in silence. He'd been worried that it had been Goren who called. He was concerned that Goren was not yet prepared to talk to his mother. He hadn't been wrong. "Are you all right, son?"

Goren's eyes shifted to Eames, then back to the colonel. "I wasn't," he answered honestly, glancing back at his partner for a second. "But I'm okay now."

Sutter held his gaze for a moment, looking at Eames when Goren looked away. She gave him a brief nod, which reassured him. However difficult his reunion with his mother proved to be for Goren—something that troubled the colonel deeply—he knew that Eames would take care of his wife's son.

Goren was moved by the colonel's concern, which seemed sincere, but he knew he had to be careful not to let the convoluted state of his emotions interfere with his working of the case. He did not get the impression that Sutter was involved, and he felt reassured that Eames seemed to feel the same, but things could become difficult very quickly. He got to his feet. "We can go in to see Rodney now, colonel."

Sutter nodded and he followed the detectives out of the room.

* * *

Rodney had been waiting in the interrogation room for a half hour when the detectives finally came in. He glared at them. "It's about time. I'm ready to leave."

"Not so fast," Goren said. They'd left Sutter in the observation room with the captain so he would have a chance to see his nephew's arrogance. "We have a few more questions for you."

"Look, detective," he said, his tone filled with menace. "I already told you I had nothing to do with Annie or Morris. You can let me go now."

Goren shook his head. "No, we can't. You don't have an alibi, Rodney. Right now, you're our best suspect. We have enough to charge you, so unless you're ready to tell us where you were when they were killed, you're going to trial for murder."

Rodney folded his arms across his chest, defiant and uncooperative. He looked over at the door when it opened, expecting another cop to come into the room. When his uncle came through the doorway, his entire demeanor changed. "Uncle Terrance," he said as he got to his feet. "What are you doing here?"

"Did you think they wouldn't involve me, Rod?"

"But...But you retired..."

"Not yet, I haven't. And it's my store. The deaths of both Annie and Morris put that store in jeopardy. Now, cooperate with them."

"But I told them I didn't do it! That should be good enough!"

"They're police officers. They deal with people trying to lie their way out of situations every day. It's not a matter of believing you or not believing you. It's a matter of having the evidence to back up your claims. Now stop wasting their time, boy, and tell them what they need to know."

Rodney's mouth turned into a pout. "Yes, Uncle Terrance."

Goren arched an eyebrow. "You didn't tell us you were the colonel's nephew."

"It wasn't any of your concern. Uncle Terrance is my mother's brother." He sighed. "Morris was murdered when? Sunday night?"

"Yes."

"I was out on Long Island, at my uncle's house, that night. My aunt was just released from the hospital. I signed her release papers and drove her home. My uncle has the paperwork."

Eames said, "That alibis you for Morris' murder. What about Annie's?"

"When was she killed?"

"Thursday night."

"Oh, yeah. The night of that reception at the UN. She and Morris were excited about it. Morris got a tux and everything. But I was at my mom's that night. I stayed in my old room. I was there from 7 in the evening and I left after breakfast the next morning. I was at work by 10. Happy now, detectives? You know the secrets of my life, pathetic though they are."

Goren wrote in his binder and closed it. "You are the master of your destiny, Rodney. Not your uncle, not even your job. If you aren't satisfied with your life, change it." He stood up. "You're free to leave with your uncle."

He left the room. Eames excused herself and hurried after him. Sutter watched them go, concerned about Goren. He turned his attention back to Rodney. "Let's go, Rod. I'll take you home."

"I'm sorry if I disappointed you, Uncle Terrance."

Sutter turned to him and said, "You wasted their time. They are trying to find out who killed Annie and Morris, and you kept them from it for a full day with your games. You're damned lucky they didn't charge you with obstruction. Now let's go."

His manner entirely submissive, Rodney left the room with his uncle. In the observation room, Ross turned away from the one-way glass, pleased at the scene he'd just witnessed.

* * *

Eames found her partner in the break room, pouring a cup of coffee. He poured a second cup and began spooning sugar into it. "Hey," she said softly. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. Just getting coffee."

"Why so upset?"

"Not upset. Just...frustrated."

"Why?"

He continued to spoon sugar into the cup, then stirred it. "That kid has everything, thanks to his uncle," he said as he handed her the sweet coffee. "He doesn't appreciate any of it."

"Because it's always been there. He's never had to do without."

"It makes me wonder...how I would be...if my circumstances had been different, if the colonel had known about Frank and me, if he'd raised us."

"You would be the same," she said softly, with certainty. "Well, maybe not exactly the same, but close enough. You don't have the same personality as Rodney and you spent the first twelve yeas of your life raised by your mother. Maybe things would have turned out differently for you, but I don't believe that you would have turned out differently."

He moved closer to her, and she didn't move away. He reached toward her, splaying his hand over her side while he continued to look into her eyes.

She saw the pain in his expression, and she couldn't stop herself from moving closer and leaning up to kiss him. It was a risk, but it was one she was willing to take. While still close enough for him to hear her, she whispered, "I would still love you."

Stepping away from him, she took her coffee and walked toward the door.

"Alex," he softly called.

She turned in the doorway. He met her eyes but didn't say a word. She saw everything in his eyes, in his expression. He loved her, he wanted her, he needed her...it was all there. She nodded and left the room. Returning to her desk, she sat down and held her coffee cup in both hands, willing them to be steady. No one had the ability to shake her up with a single glance the way he did. He was a very physical person, a trait she was learning to appreciate. He was also very expressive and it amazed her how much emotion he was able to contain in a single look.

She looked up when he sat down at his desk. He looked at her before opening his binder. With a sigh that he saw more than heard, she picked up her phone and made a phone call to the UN, requesting an appointment with the Secretary-General to discuss the recent murders. She was given an appointment at three. The Secretary-General, it seemed, was as anxious to put the case to rest as they were.

She replaced the receiver and said, "The Secretary-General will see us at three."

He gave her a half smile, but this was one interrogation to which he was not looking forward.


	17. A Troubling Connection

Eames dropped her coins into the snack machine, pressed 'B-4' and waited for her Skittles to fall. Logan stepped up to the soda machine. "So...you and Goren..." he muttered as he dropped his coins into the machine in front of him.

"How many times are you going to say that, Logan?"

"I don't know. Until it sinks in?"

"What's so hard for you to believe? That someone like me would even consider being with a guy like him, or that a guy like him could put up with a woman like me?"

"Neither," he answered as he opened his coke. "He's been in love with you for years and he finally did something about it. That's what I'm dealing with. I think you're lucky as hell because he's the kind of guy who'll go to hell and back for you. There's nothing he won't do for you, Eames, and he's put it all on the line. Never forget that."

He started to walk away but she stopped him. "What about me? Do you think he's as lucky?"

"What I think doesn't matter. He thinks he is."

He walked away and, as usual, she couldn't decide if she liked him. But like him or not, she was kind of stuck with him because Goren was close friends with him, much closer than she knew. In the grand scheme of things, she decided his friendship with Logan was a good thing for him, but it didn't mean that she had to be friends with him as well unless she wanted to be. That would take time to decide.

She retrieved her Skittles and walked back to her desk, arriving as Logan clapped her partner on the shoulder and walked away. She opened the package and sat down. "Skittle?"

He shook his head. "No, thanks. We, uh, we should probably go. I don't think the Secretary-General would be particularly pleased if we were late."

With a nod, she got up while he gathered his things. She was happy that he was taking the matter seriously. He'd spent the entire morning preparing, even when Ross wandered over to ask how things were going and not-so-subtly remind him to be on his best behavior with foreign diplomats. After reassuring Ross the first time, he chose to ignore the captain when he returned, which irritated Ross but didn't prevent him from coming back time and again.

Once he had his files together, he grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair and followed Eames to the elevator.

* * *

The detectives were glad they arrived at the Secretariat Building early. It took nearly half an hour to get their appointment confirmed and make it through the security checkpoint. A security guard waited for them and, although they were allowed to keep their sidearms after a call to Ross, he escorted them to the Secretary-General's office, remaining outside the door when they entered the office.

The Secretary-General's office assistant, a very slight Asian woman, impeccably dressed, did not make them wait. She ushered them in immediately to the inner office. An-Bang Zhao rose from his desk and walked around it to greet the detectives. He extended his hand and welcomed them. With a small smile, Goren greeted him in Mandarin, the Secretary's native language. Zhao smiled broadly. "Your Mandarin is very good, detective. Thank you. Please, be seated."

"Thank you for seeing us, Mr. Secretary," Eames began. "I'm Detective Eames and my partner is Detective Goren."

"Please tell me how your investigation is proceeding. I was quite distressed to hear that Miss Kim died while attending my reception. She was quite a lovely young lady."

"Unfortunately, we don't have any suspects at the moment, Mr. Secretary," Eames said. "We wanted to see you to discuss the reception. I know it was a busy night, but does anything about Miss Kim or her associate Morris Franklin stand out in your mind?"

Zhao took the time to think back to the night in question. "I'm afraid not. I remember talking to them both, thanking them for the work and the income they provide for native artisans across Asia. Their program is very successful and I spoke with Colonel Sutter, who assures me it will continue, along with similar programs he founded in Africa and Eastern Europe. That was the only interaction I had with them. I honestly didn't take notice of either of them for the rest of the night."

"You know Terrance Sutter?" Goren asked.

"Yes, I do. I have known him and his family for many years. When I was a young man, I visited South Korea and found myself in a rather dangerous situation. Terrance Sutter saved my life. We have remained friends all these years."

"You know his family?"

"Of course. A lovely wife and two beautiful children."

Eames watched for Goren's reaction, but he masked it well. "Annie Kim..." he said quickly, regretting having asked about the colonel's family. "Uhm, we...we requested security camera footage..."

"From the night Annie Kim died," Eames picked up, diverting attention from her partner so he could regroup. "We haven't received it."

"I will see that you receive whatever you need for your investigation."

"Thank you."

Goren had settled himself, and he opened his binder, pulling out a picture and handing it to the Secretary-General. "Uhm, Mr. Secretary, do you know who this man is?"

Zhao looked at the picture intently before handing it back. "I do not," he replied.

Goren held the picture for a moment before placing it back in his binder. "Thank you," he said, getting to his feet. "And thank you for your time, sir."

Eames followed his lead and they took their leave of the office after bidding Zhao a good day. Their escort accompanied them out of the building. By the time they left the building, Goren was deeply agitated. As they walked to the car, he gestured behind him, up at the building. "He was lying, Eames. He knew the man in the picture."

"Well, fill me in, then," she said, annoyed. "Because I don't."

"He, uh, I...I'm sorry," he responded, picking up on her tone. "I-I didn't mean to...surprise you."

"You know I hate it when you do that."

"I...I know. But you were dealing with Ross and I, well, I didn't come across this until just before we left. It was a long shot that turned out to hit closer to home than I expected."

"Keep going."

They got into the car and he pulled out the picture, handing it to her. He also rustled through some paper. "That's Quon Li. He's an enforcer for the Chinese mob."

She pressed her head against the steering wheel. "Oh, Bobby...no."

He shrugged. "We go where the evidence takes us, Eames."

"What evidence takes us to the Chinese mob?"

He shuffled through some more papers, handing her the guest list for the reception. She scanned it, feeling nauseous when she found Quon Li's name. He raised a hand, palm out. "I didn't want to say anything until I was sure it was something. All I did was research each name on the guest list. So far, he's the only one I got a hit on."

She handed back the paper and the picture, sighing heavily. She started the car, then paused to rest her hand on his thigh. "Back to see the colonel?"

He nodded and she removed her hand to put the car in gear. He didn't look at her as he said, "I, uhm, I'm sorry...I didn't intend to ask about the colonel's family. I didn't...I mean...it was out before I could stop myself."

She pulled into traffic, then reached out and grasped his hand. "It's okay. I get it. Call him and tell him we're coming over."

He nodded and pulled out his phone. Eames tightened her grip on the steering wheel. If Sutter was in bed with the mob, she might just shoot him herself. _Damn_.

* * *

Sutter met them at the door and led them into a sunny room at the back of the house. Bright and airy, decorated in wicker and potted plants, the sun room looked out over a tree-shaded yard. Sutter motioned to a set of chairs. "Make yourselves comfortable. Coffee? Tea?"

"No, thank you," Eames answered as Goren shook his head.

Sutter looked at him. "This is your mother's favorite room in this house. She loves to sit here and watch the birds at the feeder outside."

Goren looked out across the yard for a minute before he said, "This room is about the size of the apartment Frank and I grew up in."

Eames looked at him as Sutter looked away, but Goren wasn't looking at either of them. An uncomfortable minute passed before Sutter returned their attention to the case. "Why did you want to see me?"

Goren didn't answer until Eames nudged him. He drew his attention from the backyard trees and opened his binder. Handing Sutter the same picture he'd shown to Zhao, he asked, "Do you know this man?"

Sutter looked at the picture carefully before he shook his head. "No, I don't."

He handed the picture back and Goren replaced it in his binder. Eames saw the relief in his expression; Sutter was telling the truth. "Should I know him?"

Goren shook his head. "Not unless you have dealings with the Chinese mafia."

Sutter sat up a little straighter. "I have always been careful to avoid entanglements with organized crime. Why did this man come up in your investigation?"

Goren finally looked him in the face. "We don't know yet. It's just...a hunch right now. But we'll follow up on it."

"Be careful," Sutter warned. "I don't have to tell you how dangerous the waters are that you're about to enter."

Goren nodded. "We know."

"But how do _you_ know that, colonel?" Eames asked.

Sutter smiled. "I don't deal with them, but I'm not ignorant. I have to know something about the people I try to avoid."

The butler stepped into the room. "Dinner is ready, sir. Shall I set two more plates?"

Sutter looked at the detectives. "Join me, please?"

Goren shook his head. He wasn't ready for that level of involvement in the man's personal life. "Uh, no, thank you. We...we really should be going. We still have work to do."

With a nod, Sutter turned to the butler. "Looks like it will just be me, James. I'll be along in a minute."

"Yes, sir."

As they walked to the front of the house, Sutter said, "I wasn't born to this kind of life, but it was a life I wanted for my children and for my wife. I made some very smart business decisions and it seemed like suddenly, everything I ever wanted for them was within my grasp. I suppose I've simply become accustomed to it. Had I never married, I would have been content to live in the BOQ and eat in the mess hall or the Officer's Club." He laughed. "I'm not a complicated man."

Goren smiled, but there was a sadness in his expression. "Maybe not, sir, but I'm certain my mother brought plenty of complication into your life."

"That may be so, but I love her dearly."

Eames saw the stiffening in Goren's back before he answered, "I'm glad she found that, colonel. And I'm glad she found it with you."

Sutter placed his hand on the doorknob, but before he opened the door, he looked Goren in the eye. "You do believe that I would gladly have taken in you and your brother, if I had known, don't you?"

Goren looked back at the colonel. "Yes, sir. I believe you."

"And you understand how deeply I regret not knowing?"

Goren nodded. "Yes, sir. I understand."

As Sutter opened the door, Goren looked around at the large foyer of the home in which his half-siblings were raised. "You may regret it," he said, stepping out onto the porch after Eames. "But I don't—at least, not this part of it. Good night, Colonel."

Sutter watched the two detectives leave. Sadly, he stepped back into the house and closed the door.

* * *

Eames was quiet most of the way back to 1 PP, leaving Goren to his thoughts. She pulled into the parking garage and slipped into an open spot, turning off the engine. Finally, she turned to face Goren. "Did you mean that?"

"What?"

"About not regretting growing up on the Upper East Side."

He nodded. "Yeah, I meant it."

"Why?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Because it's a very different world than the one I know, and I like my world. You may think I wouldn't have turned out any differently, but my life might very well have taken a different path. After all, how many cops hail from the Upper East Side? That's not a life I want to explore, because it's one that doesn't include you."

She looked away. "Maybe your brother would have turned out better."

"And maybe he would just have developed richer tastes. Maybe he'd snort coke instead of smoking crack. We don't know. What I do know is that I'm satisfied with my life the way it is. There's no point in regretting the past. When I said I was glad she found him, I meant that. Yes, I wish she'd loved us enough to stay, but she didn't. What's done is done. She found her way and set us on ours. I don't always make the best choices, but I'm happy with the man I am."

She smiled and leaned in to give him a gentle kiss. "So am I," she said.

He gave her another heart-melting smile and they got out of the car. "Let's see if the Secretary-General is as good as his word," she said.

With another smile, he tossed her the keys she'd left in the ignition. She caught them with a laugh and nudged him with her shoulder when he was close enough. Sliding his arm around her, he gave her a brief hug. They stepped apart as they got to the elevators and, reaching out with one hand to give his hand a squeeze, she pushed the 'up' button. They got onto the elevator and went up to the eleventh floor.

* * *

**A/N: Since I am uncomfortable putting words in the mouths of living non-fictional people within a work of fiction, I must toss in the disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any living person is entirely coincidental. That being said, I did want to be a little informative. The actual current Secretary-General of the United Nations is Ban Ki-Moon, who is from South Korea and has been in office since June 2011. The gentleman who was Secretary-General when this story took place was Kofi Annan, from Ghana. Also, I do strive to be accurate, but I have no experience visiting the Secretary-General, so for that, I am winging it. I hope you are enjoying the story as much as I am writing it!  
**


	18. A Picture Begins to Emerge

While Eames spoke with a representative of the United Nations security team about getting the video footage they'd asked for five days ago, Goren began researching Quon Li and he didn't like what he found. The man was a ruthless and determined but careful killer. If anything set him on their tails, there were only two ways he could see out of it. Either kill Li first or cause him to get careless enough to be caught. The first option, though very difficult and equally dangerous, would be, by far, the easier way out.

Li had several M.O.s, one of which included the execution-style method that had killed Morris Franklin. None of his methods, however, matched Annie Kim's murder, and he wasn't sure what to make of that. Either something happened to cause Li to operate outside his normal parameters, or someone else had killed Annie.

Eames came into the room in which he had sequestered himself with the evidence. She watched him study the pictures taped to the white board amid the notes he'd written to organize the case. He was very methodical, although he might appear haphazard to the casual observer. Every word, every stroke of the marker had a purpose. Crime scene photos first, then autopsy photos, each in chronological order...cause of death, details of the scene, conclusions drawn thus far...and Quon Li's name and picture on Morris Franklin's side of the board. An-Bang Zhao's name was on Annie's side of the board with a question mark next to it because Goren just didn't know what, if anything, the Secretary-General had to do with her death.

He glanced over his shoulder at her. "Any luck?"

"We'll have the tapes tomorrow." She paused. "Do you think Zhao is involved?"

"To what end?" He had given that a great deal of thought. "In what way does he benefit by the murders? Annie and Morris were no threat to him. They provided jobs and income to people who regard what we spend on lunch a fortune. I think he knows who Quon Li is, knows him by sight, at least, and does not want to be linked to him."

"And Li's name on the guest list?"

"I don't think he knew Li was there." He smiled. "Do you think Mr. Zhao writes his own guest list, Eames?"

She returned his smile and his attention went back to the board. "Can you find out who Mr. Zhao's personal assistant is?" he asked. "The Secretary-General may not be involved, but I think someone in that office is."

"Of course you do." she said with affection. "But why? What motive does anyone have to kill Annie and Morris?"

His eyes wandered over the board, which included personal information they'd found on each victim. He folded one arm across his body and pressed his hand against his mouth, head tilted to the left. "Maybe the motive isn't professional. Maybe it's personal."

"We're gonna be here for awhile, aren't we?" she asked. When he didn't answer, she said, "So—pizza or Chinese?"

He looked over his shoulder again and arched an eyebrow. She laughed softly when she realized what that look was for. "Okay," she said. "Pizza it is."

* * *

Someone was being passive-aggressive, deliberately trying to make things difficult for the detectives under the guise of being cooperative. The DVDs arrived at eight the next morning. They had obligingly burned copies of footage from Thursday night's cameras onto DVDs—footage from every camera in the building. Compounding the issue, footage from several different cameras was burned onto each disc without any notation of which cameras were on which DVD or which areas of the building were covered. They did, however, include a list of cameras with the numbers by which they were identified in the recorded footage.

Normally, Goren enjoyed reviewing camera footage, but in this case, most of the cameras had nothing to record. Most DVD systems were programmed not to record to the system if there was no movement for a set period of time, but a mouse scurrying into the camera field would enable the recording. Since the DVDs were not marked or sorted, he had no way to find the cameras he wanted except by watching them—all twenty-seven of them. Even on fast-forward, it wasted an incredible amount of his time.

Eventually, he agreed to rotate with Eames, Logan and Wheeler, but he couldn't stay away for long when they were reviewing the footage. Logan and Eames were used to him and they joked with him when he returned from the bathroom or the coffee machine. But he made Wheeler nervous. She didn't know how to handle him or why he kept coming into the room and watching over her shoulder while she was reviewing footage. Eames told her to chase him away, but Goren was an intimidating man whose simple presence made her nervous. Logan promised her she would get used to him and in time, even grow to like him, but she wasn't sure she wanted to become that familiar with the man.

Morning wore into afternoon as Goren scribbled another camera location onto his pad. The tedium of the task was mind-numbing and he yawned as another empty corridor came into view. _Damn mice._ He stretched his back and let his mind wander a little. As he thought about Eames, some of the knots relaxed in his back. _Wait..._

He sat up straight, on alert, and rewound the footage. Two people came into view of the camera. He glanced at his notes. This was on the ground floor of the building on the side opposite the public entry. He recognized Annie Kim and focused on her. She was obviously drunk, laughing and unsteady. He rewound a couple of times, committing the footage to memory. He jotted down the time on the camera—4:17 am—followed by a question: _When did UN reception end? _Very obviously, Annie had continued to party long after the actual party ended. He made a note to check toxicology when it came back for her blood alcohol level, which he already knew was high from the smell of her breath and, now, from her behavior on the video footage, as well as any drug intoxication. Why would they have stayed at the U.N. once the party was over? There were plenty of better places in the city to have sex. _Like a certain utility closet on the lowest floor of police headquarters?_ his mind taunted. He chased away his memories and returned his attention to the screen in front of him. Perhaps someone had a bucket list that included _Do it at the U.N._

He rewound again, watching Annie's movements, trying to read her lips. He could tell she was flirty, giggling, and very much at ease with the man. After two more rewinds, he realized she wasn't speaking English. He flipped through his binder. Annie spoke Mandarin, Cantonese, Thai, Filipino and Vietnamese. He knew Mandarin and could muddle his way through a basic conversation in Cantonese and Vietnamese. It took a little more effort before he finally recognized some of her words. She was speaking Mandarin, but the video wasn't clear enough for him to make out most of her words.

He let the video continue forward and watched her kiss him and fumble with his clothes. Very obviously, she wanted him.

He rewound again, this time focusing on the man. He didn't recognize him. He was Chinese, about the same height as Annie, young, and as much into her as she was into him. He backed her against a wall, teasing her, playing with her, and they both got what they wanted. For as young as he appeared, he was pretty adept at pleasing a woman, judging from Annie's reactions to him. Of course, Annie could have been so stoned she would have reacted the same way if he'd fumbled about like a monkey.

Something else caught his eye. He rewound again. Someone else was there. He watched the shadows as the couple cavorted and played near the center of the field of view. Definitely, there was movement in the shadows. The screen vanished in a flash of bright light which was gone before the camera could adjust its aperture to accommodate the increase in lighting. It happened again before the camera could adjust back. When the camera finally recovered, two bodies lay on the floor. _Muzzle flash, _he thought. They had been killed right about the same time they were culminating their encounter. So they'd both gone out on a high note, in more ways than one. Most definitely, Annie Kim had not been tortured before her death.

He continued to watch as two figures dressed in black carried out the bodies and cleaned up the mess. He never saw their faces, so he didn't know who had killed them. He found a blank DVD and copied the pertinent video onto it. Then he began to search for the footage of the plaza, which was covered by multiple cameras, hoping he would find something on it that would assist in identifying the killer and his helper. He tried hard not to focus on the one thought that kept creeping into his mind. They were missing a body.

He spent another half hour searching and had just found the plaza camera footage he needed when Wheeler came in to relieve him. He waved a hand at her. "It's fine, Wheeler. I've got it."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Go on."

He didn't have to tell her twice. When she met Eames in the break room half an hour later and told her what he'd said, Eames knew he'd found something. Abandoning her pursuit of coffee, she walked past Logan's desk on her way to the AV room. "He found something," she said as she passed him.

He got up and hurried after her.

They entered the room as he finished his fourth review of the plaza camera footage. "What did you find?" she asked.

He copied the footage onto the same disc that held the camera footage of the murder and sat back, stretching his back again. He rubbed his eyes and said, "We're missing a body."

"We're what?"

He removed the source DVD and set it on the stack beside him. Then he took his DVD out of the target drive and held it up. "The murder took place on the first floor of the building. Annie was with a man, and both of them were killed. But only Annie's body was left for us." He stopped speaking and grew thoughtful for a moment before he spun around to the DVD player. He slid the disc in and hit play. They watched the footage together. "She's really wasted," Logan commented.

Goren grunted agreement. "So is he."

"They make a beautiful couple," Logan retorted, and Goren laughed.

Eames smiled. She liked being around the men when they were together. Logan set Goren at ease. They joked readily and laughed often, especially when they were drinking. She was relaxed with them as well and could easily hold her own with either of them—and with both of them.

"There!" Goren said suddenly. He held up the remote and rewound. As the video progressed again, he tapped the screen. "He moved. He wasn't dead. They took him somewhere for medical care. We need to find out who he is."

"What about the men who killed her?"

Goren hit fast forward, slowing to play when he got to the footage on the plaza. He let them watch the two men carry Annie to the statue and position her body. Then, one of them turned and he paused the footage. Eames said, "Quon Li."

* * *

Goren was exhausted. Nearly twelve hours of viewing mostly useless video footage had given him a sore back and a mild headache. The two hours they'd spent afterwards discussing their findings and deciding what to do next had eased his headache, but his back was still in knots. He unlocked his apartment door and pushed it open to admit his equally weary partner. He followed her into the apartment.

He slipped out of his jacket and tossed it on the couch. He stretched his back again, trying to loosen the knots. Eames placed her hands on his back and began to knead his muscles. He groaned and his knees wobbled. She coaxed him toward the bedroom. Slipping around him through the doorway, she turned and began to unbutton his shirt. She pushed his shirt open and slowly kissed his chest, flicking her tongue over his skin at irregular intervals. Slowly, he eased her shirt off, followed by her bra and his hands explored her soft skin. By that time, she had worked her way up to his collarbone and he eased her toward the bed. As soon as they hit the bed, her mouth was on his and they were working at each other's pants. Exhaustion and tight muscles took a back seat to passion as they responded to each other. When they were done, she collapsed on top of him, and they slept.

* * *

It was still dark when Goren woke, unsure of what had disrupted his sleep. Eames had moved off him and now lay beside him, her body pressed along the length of his. He kissed her temple and sat up, groaning at the protest in his back. He'd probably moved wrong and set off the tension in his muscles, which woke him. He swung his legs over the side of the bed. A flash of lightning illuminated the room as he looked around for his boxers. Thunder rumbled overhead. Finding his shorts, he pulled them on and looked at Eames in the light from the street that filtered in through the window. Reaching out, he hesitated, then lightly stroked her shoulder and side with his fingertips. She sighed and turned onto her back, but didn't waken. With a smile, he pulled the sheet up to her ribs and flexed his hand as he resisted the urge to touch a bare breast. More lightning flashed. He got up and went across the hall into the bathroom.

He returned to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. She had stretched her arms over her head, fully exposing both breasts. He flexed his hand again and prepared himself to nestle in beside her. A noise from the direction of the living room caught his attention and he immediately forgot his arousal. Grabbing a t-shirt from his dresser, he pulled it on, leaving the drawer open. Pulling open the drawer in his nightstand, he retrieved his gun, not bothering to close that drawer, either.

Silently, he left the bedroom and moved down the hallway to the living room. Another flash of lightning illuminated the room. It appeared empty, but he knew he heard something. He hesitated a moment longer before stepping out of the hallway and immediately to his right. Off to his left, he sensed, rather than saw movement, and he spun toward it, taking a glancing blow to the side of his head. Momentarily stunned, he dropped his gun. Recovering quickly, he reacted and grabbed the body of his attacker. They stumbled across the room, crashing into the coffee table which shattered under their weight.

The noise woke Eames from a dead sleep. She grabbed one of Goren's t-shirts from the open drawer and pulled it on as she moved toward the nightstand. Seeing the open drawer, she realized his gun was gone and she hoped to hell he was the one who had it. She hurried down the hall, flipping on the bathroom light as she passed the open door. Keeping against the wall, she flipped on the living room light, effectively blinding both men for just a moment.

Seeing Goren's gun on the floor, she made a dash for it, grabbing it as the intruder swung hard toward Goren's head with one hand and thrust powerfully toward his torso with the other. Goren effectively blocked the blow to his head but, in doing so, opened his midsection to the other attack. Although he managed to turn slightly, he took the hit in the side and went down hard. Stunned by the pain in his side, he hit his head on an end table as he fell. The assailant ran for the door and Eames raised the gun in her hand. "Police! Stop!"

When he turned toward her, raising his right arm quickly, she fired. The man hit the wall beside the front door and went down, his gun flying from his gloved hand. Grabbing the phone, Eames placed an 'officer down, officer needs help' call. Then she called Logan, who was number four on Goren's speed dial, after her and Frank. "Goren? What the hell..." he answered, his voice thick with sleep.

"Mike, get over here now," she said, slamming down the receiver before he could respond.

Logan wouldn't question her urgency. She rushed to her fallen partner. "Bobby..." she murmured as she pushed him over onto his back.

Blood gushed from the wound in his side, which she quickly covered with both hands. Positioning herself directly over the wound, she pushed her body weight down on it and waited for help.

Logan didn't live far, so he arrived first, dressed in pajama bottoms and sneakers. "What the hell..."

"Take over for me, Mike," she ordered and he did as she asked.

"What the hell happened here?" he asked, finally able to complete a question.

"I...still have to sort it out myself," she answered. "I'll be right back."

Sirens broke the quiet of the night as local patrol cars began to arrive. Eames ran to the bedroom, quickly pulled on her pants, and returned to the living room, stopping briefly in the guest room that Goren kept for his brother. She retained enough presence of mind to make sure Ross would think she'd been in there rather than in bed with her partner. She went over to the intruder, gasping when she saw his face.

"What is it?" Logan asked.

"I'll explain later," she answered as two uniformed patrolmen pushed open the apartment door, which was not completely closed, guns drawn.

Eames held up her hands to show that she was unarmed, giving them her name and badge number. She then identified Logan and told them her partner needed an ambulance. While one officer called for the ambulance that was already en route to step on it, two more uniforms arrived. Eames knelt beside Logan at Goren's head and pushed her hand over his hair. "Hang in there," she whispered.

"Detective Eames?" She looked up at the officer who called her name. "I'm Sergeant Jenkins. Can you tell us what happened here?"

She shook her head, struggling to control her emotions and contain her worry. "My partner and I are working on a case. We...had a late night. I was woken by a loud crash and I found him struggling with the man by the door."

"Your partner's name?"

"Goren. Robert Goren. Badge number 4376."

"Do you know the intruder?"

"Not personally. He's a recent suspect in our case."

"Go on."

"When I turned on the light, the suspect stabbed him and tried to run. I identified myself as a police officer and he turned on me. I fired once and he went down. His gun is there, where it fell. My partner's gun is over by the phone. I picked it up off the floor when I came into the room. He must have dropped it when the suspect got the jump on him."

Jenkins looked at Logan. "And you are?"

"Detective Mike Logan. Badge number 3168. We work together at Major Case, and Goren and I are friends. I live close by so Eames called me to come over and help. Where is that damn bus?"

Beside him, Logan could feel the tension rolling off Eames, who knelt there with her hands balled into fists against her thighs. Before any of the officers answered him, the paramedics arrived, taking over Goren's care from him. Both Eames and Logan backed off, and he slipped his arm around Eames to comfort her. It spoke to her level of distress that she let him.

As the paramedics worked, their actions were hurried. By the time they left, they had started an IV, placed a pressure bandage over Goren's injury and one of them was talking to a doctor on a cell phone. His tone reflected worry and they were moving quickly. One of the patrolmen went with them.

Jenkins also followed them out, returning shortly. "He's stable," he told Eames and Logan. "They're taking him to St. Vincent's."

"Thank you, sergeant."

"I think I have all the information I need. The apartment is going to be sealed for a few days while we investigate, so take whatever you think he might need."

"I'll just be a minute," she said.

Logan said, "I'll wait for you here."

He went into the kitchen and washed the blood from his hands. Eames went into the bathroom and did the same, then she went into the bedroom, returning fully dressed with a small gym bag. She pushed a t-shirt into Logan's hands and he pulled it on. Jenkins checked the bag which contained Goren's badge, cell phone, wallet, and keys. She had his leather binder tucked under her arm. "No clothes?" he asked.

"He's got clothes at my place," Logan said. "You know how it goes. You get drunk together often enough and eventually, you have a stash of clothes at each other's place."

Jenkins grinned. "Yeah, I know how it goes. You folks want a ride to the hospital?"

"No, thanks," Logan answered. "My car's right outside."

They left the apartment. Once they were in Logan's car, Eames buried her face in her hands. "You okay?" he asked.

"I don't know. Everything happened so fast. I don't know why he was up or what happened."

"He doesn't always sleep well. Sometimes he gets up and has a drink or two to help him get back to sleep."

"But he's been sleeping fine."

Logan smiled. "You really think he's gonna wake you because he can't sleep?"

She paused. Logan knew him very well. "He should have woken me when he thought there was an intruder!"

"Yeah, I don't see him doing that, either."

She made a noise of frustration, and he laughed. "You can have that out with him while he recovers."

"Oh, I will, don't worry."

He drove for a block in silence before he asked, "Tell me about the dead guy in Goren's living room."

"He's Quon Li. the guy in the surveillance video from the U.N. There are only two people who knew he was a person of interest: Colonel Sutter and An-Bang Zhao, the Secretary-General of the U.N. We showed his picture to both men Wednesday afternoon, but only one of them lied about knowing him."

"Tell me it's not Sutter you suspect."

She looked at him. "Why would you want it to not be Sutter?"

"I'm not saying it wouldn't be bad for the Secretary-General to be involved, but Goren's my friend, and I think it would be worse for him if it was Sutter. The criminal justice system can take on Zhao. I don't know how Goren would take a betrayal like that from Sutter."

Eames nodded her agreement. "You're exactly right, Mike. And it was Zhao who lied to us."

"You guys are gonna have a tough sell, convincing Ross to go after a guy like that."

"We don't yet know his level of involvement. Our investigation is still preliminary. Bobby doesn't think it's Zhao but someone in his office who's involved."

"You're still gonna tangle with foreign diplomats and that's always a sticky mess. If you need help with this, Wheeler and I will give you a hand. She needs to get used to Goren anyway. Besides, if Goren's gonna be out for any length of time, you don't need to be investigating this on your own."

"Thanks, Mike. Let's see how badly hurt he is first."

The car fell silent and she turned to look out the window, her thoughts, and her heart, with her injured partner.


	19. As They Wait

The waiting room made her feel claustrophobic. Reluctantly, she'd called Ross and informed him of the attack on her partner. He arrived half an hour later. Now he sat near Logan, watching her pace as the time slowly passed. She couldn't sit still. Every part of her seemed restless as she grew more impatient for information.

Ross wanted to ask her about the case, but he saw how agitated she was, and so he chose to bide his time and he waited. Logan didn't like that Ross was there, but he couldn't do anything about it. He wished that Eames hadn't called him, but understood how angry the captain would have been if he'd found out some other way. Goren was his detective, and Logan guessed it was a good thing that Ross showed up. He knew how rocky things were between Ross and Goren. Maybe this was Ross' way of showing he cared about his detectives.

The sun was up and the day had begun when a doctor finally took them back into an unoccupied break room to talk with them. "His injury was serious," he said without preamble. "The knife hit his liver and he lost a lot of blood. We just sent him up to surgery."

"Will he..." she began. Taking a moment, she refocused and asked, "Is he going to be all right?"

"I don't know. We couldn't get him to stabilize. It's up to the surgeons now whether he lives or dies."

He directed them to the surgical waiting room, but recommended they get something to eat first. It was likely to be a long wait.

* * *

Ross sat across from Logan and Eames in the hospital cafeteria with a plate of eggs and hash browns and a cup of coffee. "Does Goren have any family?"

"His brother, that's all. But I have medical proxy for him," Eames said.

"Why is that?"

"Because my partner trusts me to makes those decisions for him. His brother is often unreachable."

Ross accepted her answer and decided to ask about the case. "The man you killed in Goren's living room. Do you know who he is?"

"His name is Quon Li. He's...an enforcer for the Chinese mob."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard her," Logan said.

Ross gave him an annoyed look that told him to watch his step or he'd be listening from another table. "The Chinese mob? When did the Chinese mob enter the picture and why wasn't I informed? I told you to keep me in the loop, Eames."

"It's a new development."

"Apparently, they know about it."

She sighed deeply. "Yesterday afternoon, before we went to the U.N., Goren was running the names of all the reception guests, to see if anyone popped. Quon Li did. That was the first hint of it we had. When we showed his picture to the Secretary-General, he lied to us and told us he didn't know who he was."

"How do you know he was lying?"

"Goren knows," Logan said.

Eames nodded. "My partner can read body language and interpret microexpressions. He knows when someone is lying, captain. Mr. Zhao recognized Quon Li."

"Does your partner also know what that means?"

She shook her head. "It just means that Zhao recognized him. He doesn't necessarily know him personally. It doesn't mean he's in bed with the mob, but it doesn't mean he isn't, either. We have to look into it more."

Ross rubbed his temple and took a sip of coffee. "What else?"

"We went to see Colonel Sutter as well. He told us the same thing when we showed him Quon Li's picture, but he was telling us the truth. The colonel is familiar with the mob but only enough to know who to avoid in his business dealings. We've uncovered no evidence to show that he's anything but above board."

Logan lightly tapped her leg. She was beginning to sell the colonel a little too hard. She backed off. "We don't know that the Secretary-General is involved with them, either, but Goren believes that someone in his office is."

Ross rubbed his temple again. "Why didn't you report that the Chinese mob was involved in this?"

"It was just a suspicion, captain, until last night."

Ross nodded, thinking she was talking about the attack on her partner. "They send a pretty extreme calling card."

"Oh, it gets better," Logan said.

"What do you mean?"

Eames took a drink of her coffee. "All that security video footage they sent from the U.N. security cameras...we discovered something."

"What did you find?"

"Quon Li," Logan said, relishing the captain's reaction. "Big as life on the little screen."

It was Eames' turn to nudge Logan. He was enjoying this just a little too much. Eames explained, "We found footage of Annie Kim's murder and what we thought was the murder of the man she was with that night. The two men responsible for the murders got rid of the bodies and cleaned up the mess. Annie was left where we found her."

"Are you telling me there's another body out there?"

"Not yet. Goren noticed movement in the other body. He wasn't dead. We think he was taken somewhere for medical treatment since a second body hasn't turned up."

"It wasn't Morris Franklin?"

"No. We haven't identified him yet. All we know is that he's young and Chinese. He and Annie were speaking Mandarin."

Ross looked surprised. "The U.N. security video system has audio?"

"No," Logan answered. "But we have Goren. The video wasn't good enough for him to tell all of what they were saying but he could see enough to determine they were speaking Mandarin."

"How could he tell that?"

"He speaks Mandarin," Eames said.

"And he reads lips," Logan added.

"I'll remember that," Ross muttered. "So two men killed Annie Kim and injured her companion, then got rid of the evidence."

Eames nodded. "One of those men was Quon Li. We got a good enough look to identify him."

"So we can assume these four people remained in the building after the reception. Quon Li and his associate killed Annie Kim, injured her friend and not only made it out of the building, but made it out, undetected, carrying two bodies?"

"Yes..." said Eames. "And no."

"We never said they went undetected, captain," Logan said, postulating another theory Goren formulated. "It's absurd to believe that footage we saw on video went undetected by the building security staff. These are not mall cops or parking lot patrols. We think they had help of some kind to avoid detection on the monitors. It had to be someone on the inside who was watching to see if anything came up on camera. When Annie and her boy toy showed up on the screen, the inside man distracted his coworkers from the video."

"This was no fly-by-night operation, captain. They left nothing to chance. Annie Kim's murder was not a random crime. It was pre-meditated and planned. And Quon Li was sent to keep us from uncovering the truth."

Ross tapped his fingers on his coffee cup. "You were at Goren's?"

She nodded. "We worked late and he offered me his spare room."

Ross accepted her explanation and moved on. "I'm going to station a detail outside his hospital room while you two get this figured out, in case someone tries again where Li failed. You and Logan should stay together, maybe sleep in the crib. Don't go home."

"Captain..." she began, although she had no intention of going home.

"That's an order, Eames. I will have Wheeler check on every member of the Secretary's staff, see what she can find." He paused. "I'm just not sure how much we can do if we do find anything. Unfortunately, all these people have diplomatic immunity."

"I hate that term," Logan growled. "It's a smoke screen that lets too many people get away scot-free with too much."

"I know," Ross agreed "If something does turn up, I'll talk to Secretary Zhao myself. He has more authority in this situation than we do. You're certain he isn't involved?"

"We're not certain of anything yet," Eames answered. "But Goren made a good point. Zhao has nothing to gain by any of this, at least, nothing we've been able to determine."

Ross sighed heavily and finished his coffee. "Call me when you know anything about Goren. I'm going to brief the chief of d's. Somehow I just knew this case was going to give me a headache."

Eames watched him leave, failing to find any sympathy for his headache when her partner lay injured in a hospital surgical suite. She also thought about how much more difficult the case had been for Goren from the very beginning. He might not think he'd handled it very well, but she thought he was doing a great job under difficult circumstances. She looked at Logan and saw the same sympathy in his eyes.

She gave him a brief smile. "We're going to have to talk to Colonel Sutter again. He was planning to return to East Hampton today. I'd better call and ask him if he can stay in the city for an extra day or two."

He nodded and she placed the call. Sutter agreed to postpone his trip home for a couple of days. She felt badly that he was missing out on spending time with his grandson, but she hoped the delay would be brief.

"Come on, Mike," she said. "Let's go upstairs and wait for the doctors."

* * *

Goren came out of surgery around mid-afternoon and the surgeon found Eames and Logan in the waiting room. "Once we were able to stop the internal bleeding," he said. "He stabilized quickly. He received some blood in the operating room and he's going to get another unit when he gets to his room upstairs. Other than that, he was very fortunate. He's strong and he's healthy, so he should make a quick and complete recovery. The damage to his liver wasn't serious, although his injury was. He's going to be fine."

Eames thanked the doctor, who gave them Goren's room number and told them he would be transferred there from recovery within the hour. She was so relieved, she felt faint and leaned against Logan for a few minutes. Once she felt better, they went upstairs to wait for Goren in his room.

Eames knew they had to talk to Sutter, but she felt a need to see Goren first. Once she saw for herself that he was okay, she would be able to focus on the case.

* * *

When Goren came around, his head was foggy. He knew immediately that he was in unfamiliar surroundings, which he identified as a hospital seconds later. He shifted his position as he opened his eyes, and pain flared in his gut. Then the room tilted and spun and he clamped his eyes shut. _What the hell?_

"Bobby?" His partner's welcome voice was filled with concern.

"Eames..."

Slowly, he opened his eyes again. The room didn't tilt quite as far or spin quite as fast. Gradually, it settled down and became stable. He looked at Eames and Logan, bringing his eyes to rest on his partner. "Alex...are you—are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Bobby."

"He didn't...hurt you, did he?"

"No, he didn't. He won't ever hurt or kill another person."

"You took out Li?"

"I didn't have a choice."

He smiled, eyes bright with pride, and reached up to touch her cheek. "Remind me not to piss you off," he teased.

"That's generally a good idea," she joked back.

"Are you sure...are you okay?" he repeated, a concern he'd expressed after every duty-related shooting in which she'd been involved.

With a tender smile, she tucked her hand into his and leaned over to give him a soft kiss. He raised his other hand and slid his fingers into her hair, relaxing into the kiss. Some of his pain faded as he relaxed. She straightened away from him but continued to hold his hand. He gave her a sleepy smile, then looked at Logan. "Mike, will you..."

Pain interrupted his request and he groaned, closing his eyes. Eames whispered his name, and when the pain subsided, he opened his eyes again. "Don't worry, Bobby," Logan said. "I'll stick to her like glue."

"And I'll shoot you," Eames retorted. "I don't want you stuck to any part of me."

Goren laughed, rolling onto his injured side when the pain flared across his entire midsection. Eames gently stroked his hair and leaned close to whisper in his ear. He began to relax again and his pain faded. She watched the tension in his body ease, struck by a sudden memory that left her stunned. Her mind recalled the night before, watching him after loving him, the way his body relaxed as he surrendered to sleep. Overcome by emotion and desire, she continued to run her fingers through his hair. Leaning closer, she brought her mouth to his ear and whispered, "I love you."

It was the first time she'd said that to him unsolicited, the first time she said it first. He waited until the pain finally subsided and he was able to roll onto his back again. He could barely keep his eyes open, but he tried to focus on her. "I love you, too," he replied, squeezing her hand tightly.

Neither of them noticed that Logan had left the room, but now he returned with a nurse, who stepped up to the bed across from Eames. "Well, hello," she said gently. "It's nice to see your eyes. These two folks have been by your side this whole time. I'm sure they're happy to see you, too."

He gave her a smile and she pulled out a stethoscope. "I'm going to take a listen and then I'll give you something to help your pain."

"The pain...is tolerable," he protested, not particularly wanting the medication.

"Uh-huh," she replied, not believing him. "Well, your heart rate is a little high, and this will help you to relax." She gently shushed him and listened to his lungs and his heart, then nodded. "You sound good."

She pulled a syringe from her pocket and moved toward the IV line in his arm, but he reached out and grabbed her wrist. Though weakened by his injury, his grip was still strong. She gave him a stern look. "Okay," she said. "Let's make a deal. You just woke up from surgery and you had quite a time. The doctors want you to be comfortable, so you can channel your energy into healing rather than fighting the pain. I'm going to give you this dose now, and we'll see how you feel when the time comes for the next one."

He studied her face for a moment before he released her wrist. She smiled. "I can promise you that you'll want this tomorrow when we get you up and moving."

His only response was an annoyed grunt. As she gave him the medicine, Logan commented, "He's gonna be a fun patient."

With a patient smile, the nurse patted Goren's arm. "He'll be just fine," she said with assurance.

By the time she left the room, he was feeling dizzy. "Eames..." he said softly as he settled back against the pillows.

"I'm right here," she said.

"What did Ross have to say?" he asked.

"He's been worried about you. He doesn't like this new development. He assigned Logan to give me a hand, and Wheeler is helping with the desk work. She's checking into Zhao's people now."

He struggled harder to keep his eyes open. Holding tightly to her hand, he said, "Mike..."

"Yeah, buddy?"

"Please..."

Logan rested his hand on Goren's leg. "Don't worry about her. I've got her back."

Satisfied and reassured, Goren relaxed and let the medication do its work. His grip on her hand relaxed. Leaning over, Eames gently kissed him, then she turned to Logan. "While he's sleeping, let's go have a word with Colonel Sutter. Bobby came up with more questions for him."

Logan nodded, glad to see her fear for Goren's well-being had resolved. They stepped out of the room and left instructions for the two men outside the door. Other than his duty nurse and his doctor, no one was to enter the room except the two of them and Ross. They left the hospital and drove to the Upper East Side to see Terrance Sutter.


	20. A Mob Connection

Terrance Sutter answered the door himself, as he usually did when he was expecting Goren and Eames. "Hello, colonel," Eames greeted him. "I hope it's not too late."

"Not at all," Sutter assured her, his eyes running quickly around the front yard and along the sidewalk. He looked back at Logan and extended his hand. "Terrance Sutter," he introduced himself.

Logan accepted his hand. "Mike Logan," he replied.

Sutter stepped back to admit them. "Come in," he invited. As he led them back to the sun room, he asked, "Is Robert busy?"

"You could say that," Logan answered before Eames could.

She gave him an annoyed look before giving the colonel her answer. "Do you remember the man whose picture we showed you yesterday, colonel?"

"Yes."

"That man broke into Bobby's apartment during the night. Bobby was injured in a struggle with him. He came out of surgery about six hours ago. We would have come to talk to you sooner, but I wanted to wait until he came around before we left him."

Sutter was stunned by the news and sat heavily in a chair near the French doors that led into the yard. The colonel stared at the opposite wall until Eames gently called his name. He turned his head toward her. "I'm sorry, detective. Is he going to be all right?"

"The doctors think so. He was stabbed, and the knife hit his liver."

The frown on Sutter's face deepened. "That can be a very serious injury."

"Yes, sir. It is."

The colonel hit the arm of his chair in frustration. "I told him to be careful. Do you remember that part of our conversation, Detective Eames?"

"Yes, I do, but he didn't do anything to invite this."

Sutter looked at her with an expression of severity. "You turned your investigation to the mob."

"Colonel, you are the only one who knew we were looking at the mob."

She watched for his reaction to her little white lie. It wasn't a huge leap for the Secretary-General to figure out that the mob was in their sights, but she wanted to test Sutter. For her partner's sake, especially now, she had to know beyond all doubt that Sutter was clean.

She felt a huge sense of relief when Sutter reacted the way she expected an innocent man to react, from the confusion that crossed his face to his lack of unfocused restlessness. "I don't know what to tell you about that, detective. I haven't spoken to a soul except my wife and my grandson, and I certainly didn't discuss a murder with them."

"When we spoke with you yesterday, you told us that you have to know something about the people you want to avoid. Would you please explain that statement to us?"

Sutter shifted his position in his seat, and he watched the detectives as he answered her question. "I have many different business interests and a wide variety of contacts all over the world. My Army career proved hugely beneficial to my business career. It also provided me with information I found vital in protecting my business. As I'm sure you are both aware, organized crime exists around the world, and mob activity varies widely from organization to organization. Long ago, I was approached, at different times, by several different organizations, each of whom offered me different, though equally lucrative, business propositions. I turned them down, which was a very dangerous thing to do, but I did not want to make my money through illegal ventures. I wanted every penny I used to support my family and make my business grow to be honestly made. I would have suffered the consequences of saying no, and so would my family, but for one man." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, looking at his hands. "When I was in college, I became good friends with a fellow student named Beno Masucci." Looking up, he smiled at their reactions. "I see you know that name."

"Does that surprise you?" Logan asked.

"Not at all. Beno and I are still friends, and I make no effort to hide that. Our families often get together for dinner. Over the years we have vacationed together and engaged in various activities that we enjoy—skiing, scuba diving, camping, hiking. My son is engaged to his daughter. They are getting married at the end of the year. But I assure you, I have never had any business dealings with Beno or anyone else in his line of work."

Eames looked uncertain, and she felt sick to her stomach. Had they been wrong about him? Sutter watched her and he knew she was second-guessing herself. "About six months before we graduated," he went on. "Beno played a prank on some fraternity boys. I don't remember the prank now, but they didn't take it very well. They went after him, and they would have killed him if I hadn't gotten a few of my friends involved to help me stop them. To this day, Beno claims I saved his life. He repaid his debt years later, when other mob families began to pressure me to join them in their businesses. Beno got them to back off, and that's why I am able to remain uninvolved. I have no interest whatsoever in illegal activities. I am a businessman, and my business dealings are legitimate. I don't launder money or smuggle drugs or run prostitution rings. I give jobs to native artisans in developing countries that puts food in their children's bellies. I give jobs here in New York to young people who are just starting out. I am not ashamed of anything I do and I have nothing to hide."

"You said your brother died in a car accident," Eames said, suddenly suspicious.

Sutter nodded. "Ten years ago, when the other crime families were pressuring me. That was why Beno got involved. Travis did die in a car accident, under suspicious circumstances. The investigation didn't uncover anything, but I often wondered how deep into it the investigators got. People like those who were pressuring me do not like being told no, and I always suspected that Travis' accident was a warning. Several other suspicious things happened around that time that I dismissed as coincidence, but Beno did not. After he stepped in on my behalf, there were no more suspicious accidents. I don't know what he did to get their cooperation. All he told me was that my family and I, including my businesses, were under his protection."

"What about Annie and Morris?" Eames asked, not sure what to think of Sutter now. Whether or not he wanted to admit it as such, he had a connection to organized crime. Although he might not exploit that friendship in his business dealings, or allow Masucci to exploit him, it was still a connection. Her stomach was still sick.

"What about them?"

"Have you had any problems recently?"

"I haven't, but the last trip Morris took to Southeast Asia, Annie went with him. They told me a man offered them a very large amount of money to export some cheap mock artifacts to the United States. They were suspicious and they turned him down. If they had any further contact, they didn't tell me about it."

"Would they have kept it from you if they did?"

"Possibly. They knew my wife was sick, so they may have thought they handled it and didn't want to trouble me."

She decided to shift the line of questioning into a personal vein, asking questions she would never have posed when Goren was present. "Did they know your wife?"

"Yes. My wife knows all my employees. I host several functions for them throughout the year, so she has had the opportunity to meet everyone who works for me."

"How did she react when you told her that Annie and Morris had been killed?"

"She was understandably upset, but I did not tell her how they died. She believes it was a motor vehicle accident and I have not corrected her. I just got her back from the hospital and I don't want to put her back in. That's why I haven't told her about her sons yet. You don't understand how touchy the situation is."

"Then help me to understand."

Sutter looked confused. "What does my wife have to do with your investigation?"

"Nothing. You've answered my questions about the case for the moment. Now I want to understand you."

Sutter studied Eames, then shifted his eyes to Logan, who sat by silently, letting Eames take the lead while he watched the colonel carefully. The colonel turned his attention back to Eames. "You care a great deal about him, don't you?"

"Excuse me?" Eames asked, not entirely comfortable answering his questions.

"Your partner..." He pointed at her and then at Logan. "Both of you care very much how this goes for him."

Neither of them answered, so Sutter continued. "You're protecting him. You have since the very beginning. You told me that you watch out for him. I could see from the start how difficult this has been for him, and I have seen for myself how you support him and protect him. You're afraid this situation, this case, will tear him apart and neither of you trust me. Robert, on the other hand, wants very much to trust me because of my connection to his mother. Since he isn't here, you are much more aggressive, Detective Eames, in a way you wouldn't be in front of him because of the special circumstances involved. I respect you greatly for that, and I want to assure you—I do not want to hurt him. I have no intention of hurting him. But I'm afraid there is no way we can avoid it. I cannot predict my wife's reaction, but I know her well, and I'm afraid she is going to lash out at him defensively and attempt to turn this entire thing around to make it his fault, thereby deflecting blame from herself. I can see him allowing her to do that. What about you? How do you think he will handle it?"

Eames frowned. "Do you really think she would do that?"

Sutter sighed. "My wife is not a well woman. She suffers from schizophrenia, so very often her reactions are not reasonable. Thirty-two years ago, her mind created a delusion that enabled her to abandon her sons by convincing herself that they died in a fire. To bring those boys back from the dead and into her life again...that's no easy matter. Her mind is likely to protect itself again, and it will be her sons who will once again be caught in the backlash. Somehow, her mind will attempt to make it their fault."

Eames shook her head. "Bobby already shoulders some of the blame. You heard that for yourself, colonel. If she blames him...she'll only make it worse for him."

Sutter nodded. "I know, but I don't know how to avoid it. Part of me wishes he could just drop it."

Logan scowled. "Can you blame the guy for wanting to see her, for wanting to ask her, after all these years, why?"

"Not at all. I understand completely, and I don't blame him one bit, but she may not have an answer for him. I have great respect for him for what he has overcome. In suggesting he let it go, I only want to protect him."

Eames knew exactly what he meant, and she felt the same way. She saw no good coming for Goren in reuniting with his mother. She left him long ago, and another rejection from her would only cause him more pain. "Colonel, they aren't boys any more. They are men, and they have the right to confront the mother who abandoned them, sick or not. Bobby is a good man. He's not going to do anything to hurt her."

Sutter watched her as she spoke. "I believe that, but I don't think his mother will do the same. Don't get me wrong. She has been a wonderful and loving wife and mother all these years, but she does not tolerate having her mistakes or shortcomings pointed out to her. This is huge, and she will feel threatened by it."

She hesitated, considering her answer carefully. "I understand that, and I agree with everything you've said, but this is his decision. All I can do is support him and be around afterward to pick up the pieces. But consider this before you make any decisions. After all my partner has been through, after being betrayed as a child by the one person who, above all others, should have protected him, he still wants very much to believe in you. That's exactly why Logan and I came out here tonight. It's taken me years to earn his trust, yet he wanted to trust you right away because you have loved and cared for his mother all these years. I don't know the details of his life before she left, but he's been scarred, yet he's still willing to give her a chance. He's very angry, but he wants a chance to forgive her." She stood up. "That's something you needed to know. Good night, colonel."

Logan stood as Sutter got to his feet. "I do know the details," Logan said quietly. "And they aren't pretty. Neither are the scars she left, inside and out. What Eames said, about him being willing to give her a chance, that's huge. I have a helluva lot of respect for him. He's a big guy with a big heart. Considering what she put him through, I don't think I could do it."

Sutter followed him to the door and out onto the porch where Eames waited. "Would you keep me posted on his recovery?" he asked.

"Of course."

"Is he allowed visitors?"

"No, sir. He's in protective custody until he can defend himself again."

"Give him my best."

"I will, colonel."

She and Logan started down the stairs, but she stopped and turned halfway down. "Wait for a couple of days, then call me if you want to see him. I'll get you in. He'll be pleased to see you."

"Thank you, Detective Eames."

She nodded, then she and Logan crossed the yard and were gone.

* * *

The room was dark except for the light generated by the equipment near the bed. Eames tried to sleep on a recliner near the window, but she was having difficulty. Her mind would not settle down and that made her restless. She had a new appreciation for Goren, whose active mind frequently interfered with his body's need for rest.

In the quiet dark, she heard him stir, followed after a moment by a soft moan of pain. She got up and walked to his bedside, slipping her hand into his. He groaned again, and she smoothed her hand over his brow and into his hair. His eyelids fluttered and he opened his eyes. Slowly, he focused on her. She smiled. "How do you feel?"

He took a moment to try feeling past his pain, but he wasn't successful. "It hurts," he said hoarsely.

"I'll get a nurse."

"No. Stay here."

He gripped her hand more firmly, unwilling to let her leave. She didn't have to go anywhere. A nurse came into the room, alerted by an elevation of his heart rate, caused by the pain. She turned a light on low so she could see. "How's your pain?" she asked. "On a scale of 1 to 10."

"S-Seven," he answered. "And...climbing."

She patted his arm. "We'll take care of that."

He shifted his attention to Eames as the nurse worked with his IV line. "What'd I miss?" he asked.

"Not a lot."

"Have you talked to Colonel Sutter?"

She nodded. "Logan and I saw him last night. He was upset that you'd been hurt."

"Did you make any headway?"

"We'll talk about that later, when you feel better. Right now, you need to rest and heal."

The nurse patted his arm. "She's right. Call me if you need anything else."

He shifted uncomfortably, grunting softly against the pain. His head began to swim and he softly said, "I...I don't want to leave you hanging. The case..."

"Don't worry about the case right now. It's not going anywhere. Logan and Wheeler are helping."

"Don't leave me in the dark, Alex. I have...a lot invested in it."

"I won't leave you in the dark, I promise. We can talk about it tomorrow. Right now, it's three in the morning. Go back to sleep."

"I've been sleeping all day," he complained.

"Because your body needs the rest to repair itself. The more you rest, the faster you'll heal."

"Where are you sleeping?"

"In the recliner over there."

He frowned. "That can't be comfortable. Why don't you go home?"

"Because you're in protective custody and Wheeler didn't want to take a turn."

"She's afraid of me."

"No. She's intimidated by you."

His mind was slow to process her words. "Why am I in protective custody?"

"Bobby, the Chinese mob tried to take you out. They didn't succeed. It only stands to reason they might try to finish the job. So there are two officers outside your room and I'm in here with you. You don't have a say in this right now."

He didn't like that and his expression showed his displeasure. "You shouldn't have to sleep in a chair."

"Where would you suggest I sleep? In the bed with you?"

His expression brightened. "I wouldn't object to that."

"And when Ross comes in first thing in the morning? How do we explain that?"

"It's none of his business."

She smiled. "And when he partners you with Wheeler? That would be a sight."

He laughed softly, wincing at the pain. "She'll get used to me. You did."

"Exactly. Why break in a new partner when the old one works just fine."

He was beginning to relax as the pain receded. "I don't want a new partner."

She touched his cheek. "Neither do I. And that's why I have to sleep in the chair."

He watched her as his lids began to droop. She caressed his face and he fought harder. "Alex..."

"Shhh," she whispered, leaning down to brush her lips across his. "Go back to sleep."

He raised his hand and slipped his fingers into her hair, bringing her closer for a deeper kiss. She wanted very much to crawl in beside him and snuggle against his side. They would both sleep better. But she also knew the risks and she wasn't prepared to take them. There was too much at stake. She withdrew slowly. "Now go back to sleep," she said.

He was close. "Love you," he murmured, almost under his breath.

In the quiet of the room, she had no trouble hearing him. "I love you, too," she answered, squeezing his hand.

His eyes slipped closed and his grip on her hand relaxed. She leaned down to give him another soft kiss. Straightening up, she looked over the contours of the sheet where it covered his body and she smiled to herself. She was anxious for him to recover. She leaned over to give him another kiss before she returned to her chair.


	21. Arrangements

In many ways, Terrance Sutter remained a simple man, not much different from the boy who grew up in the Bowery. He sat at a quiet table in the back of a small restaurant on St. Mark's Place, just off Cooper Square. The food was simple, but good, and he always returned there when he sought to reconnect with his roots and remind himself from whence he came.

The waitress was new, hired since the last time he'd been there, and he smiled when she brought his plate. As he salted his eggs, someone slid into the booth across from him, ordering a coffee and the breakfast special as he did. Sutter looked up and reached out his hand across the table. His companion accepted the handshake. "How is Frankie doing, Terry?"

"Good. Rod picked her up from the hospital the other day. She's out on the Island with Missy and the baby."

"If your family is out on the Island, what are you doing in the city? Missy only comes down from Connecticut to see her daddy."

Sutter smiled at the reminder. Missy had been a Daddy's girl since the day she was born. "Something came up," he explained. "Beno, I have a favor to ask."

"Just say the word, my friend."

Sutter broke the yolk on his sunny side up eggs and dipped his toast into it. "How do you feel about protecting cops?" he asked, taking a bite.

"You're joking, right?"

"No, I'm not."

Masucci knew that if his old friend was making such a request of him, knowing that he was not particularly fond of cops, he had to have a solid reason to do so. "Go on," he said with a wave. "I'm listening."

It was a testament to their friendship that Beno was even listening to his request, and Sutter knew it. Considering his line of work, cops were not exactly his favorite people. But Sutter knew that neither officer worked in the organized crime unit, so they were unlikely to target Masucci just for the hell of it. They would go after Beno only if they had a reason to pursue him, which they did not. Beno was a very careful man. "It seems the Triad has targeted a pair of New York's finest and I'm worried about them."

The Triad was the name by which the Chinese mob was known. Although Sutter had never been involved with anyone in Masucci's line of work nor was he ever likely to be, he was very familiar with the world in which Masucci had come to manhood and of the legacy left to him by his father and his father's father. Masucci thanked the girl who brought his coffee and dumped two packets of sugar into the hot liquid. As he stirred it, he said, "These cops must be something special for you to even ask such a thing. You know how I feel about cops."

"Yes, I do, and under normal circumstances, I would never even consider asking such a thing. But..." He rubbed his forehead as the events of the past week weighed heavily on his mind and his heart. "There are very special circumstances involved here, Beno, both business and personal. On the business side of things, Annie Kim and Morris Franklin were murdered last week."

"Oh, God...what happened?"

"Remember I told you they were going on a scouting mission to Southeast Asia?"

"Yeah. You said they got some great stuff."

"They did. But while they were there, they were asked to export some goods for a generous fee. Annie knew the stuff wasn't worth what they were willing to pay, and she told them so. She was very suspicious and she chose to decline the offer. Morris, of course, backed her and so did I."

"You think the Triad whacked them?"

"I'm sure of it now. And so are the cops who are investigating the case."

"And?"

"I'm guessing the Triad knows as well. They pulled a hit on one of the cops. He survived, but I'm afraid they won't give up."

"So? That's the price they pay for doing their job. I still don't see that it's any of my business."

Sutter took a bite of bacon as the waitress brought Masucci his plate. Once she was gone, Sutter said, "It turns out, this cop is family, Beno."

"Family? Family how?"

"Frankie was married and divorced before I met her. She told me her two sons died in a house fire. It turns out that fire was a delusion, concocted by her mind when it was at its most ill. Her boys didn't die. Her younger son, Robert, is the cop who survived the hit. He's survived quite a lot, actually."

"Hmph," Masucci grumbled as he added salt and pepper to his plate. "It's still quite a favor you're asking, Terry."

"I know that. But...I've talked to this man, and I've grown extremely fond of him. He should have been my son. I've been robbed of three decades of his life. I don't want to see the Triad take him out now."

Masucci began eating in earnest while Sutter pushed his remaining toast through his eggs and swirled the rest of the egg into his potatoes. He didn't push any further. Masucci knew his request and he knew the reason why he made it. He would give him an answer when he was ready. They finished eating and got refills of their coffee. Masucci looked across the table at his old friend. "Names?"

"Robert Goren and his partner, Alexandra Eames. They work out of 1 Police Plaza, the Major Case Squad."

"Major Case? Do you know what you're asking?"

Sutter nodded. "I know, but it's important to me."

"What exactly did they do to draw the attention of the Triad?"

"They're after justice for Annie and Morris. That's all. The other day, they showed me a picture of a man. I didn't recognize him, but he was the one who broke into Robert's apartment and stabbed him during a struggle. He must be an enforcer for the Triad. But they aren't after the group—just the man who killed Annie and Morris."

Masucci was quiet, thinking hard as he finished his coffee. "Okay, Terry," he said finally. "On the strength of our friendship, I will put out the word that these officers are off limits, that they're under my protection. The Triad will not be happy, but they will back off. They don't have the numbers in New York not to listen."

"I would never have asked if it wasn't important to me."

"And that's why I agreed. You have never exploited our friendship. I trust Frankie's son will not be a disappointment to you."

"I don't think he will. Thank you, Beno."

Masucci smiled. "Just don't let it get around that I agreed to protect police officers."

Sutter got up from the table and Masucci followed suit. The two men embraced and Sutter pulled out his wallet. "My treat this time."

"Join me for a round of golf next weekend?"

"I may be out in East Hampton."

"I would be more than happy to play at your club out there. As I recall, the last time we played out there, you beat me by three strokes. You owe me a rematch."

"I'll give you a call."

"Let me know how it goes with your stepson."

Sutter nodded, paid the tab and the two men went their separate ways.

* * *

Eames sat by the window, reading the paper, as Goren slept. She pulled out her phone when it rang. "Eames."

"Hello, Detective Eames. This is Terrance Sutter. How is Robert?"

"Hello, colonel. He's doing better."

"I'm happy to hear it. I would like to visit him, if I may."

"Of course. He's in room 723 at St. Vincent's. I'm here now and I can authorize your visit."

"Thank you, detective. I'll see you soon."

She set her phone on the windowsill and went back to her paper until Goren woke about half an hour later. A nurse came in before he could say anything, ready to get him up to sit in a chair. She pulled a syringe from her pocket and he balked. "No. I don't need any more pain medicine."

"You'll change your mind when we get you moving. Remember yesterday?"

The day before he'd adamantly refused any pain medicine. They'd gotten him up anyway, and the pain surged to the point that he nearly passed out. At that point, Eames had been able, as his proxy, to override him and they gave him the medicine he needed.

"I'm better today," he insisted.

"You are two days post-op. You are not that much better yet."

Eames could see that he was going to be stubborn. "Well, Clara," Eames began. "I guess you'll just have to stay here until he agrees."

Goren looked at them both with irritation. He wanted to be alone with Eames and she knew it. "Fine," he grumbled after a couple of minutes.

Clara gave him the medicine and promised to return in fifteen minutes, to give it a chance to take hold before getting him out of bed.

Once she was gone, he pushed himself up a little higher in the bed. The pain was beginning to ease. Eames came over and sat on the edge of the bed by his side. "How do you feel this morning?" she asked.

The scowl began to slip from his brow and he slid his hand into hers. "Better. Is that today's paper?"

"Yes. I'll give it to you when you're up in the chair. You can read it while you eat your breakfast."

"I'm not hungry."

"Bobby, you need to eat. You're never going to get out of here if you don't do what they tell you to do."

He frowned again. He didn't like being told what to do, not even by her, although he took it better from her than from anyone else. She leaned in and kissed him. His frown faded. "How about a bribe?" he suggested playfully.

She knew then that he actually was feeling much better. Over the past two days, he hadn't done much more than sleep and grump at her, unhappy to be restricted and angry that she wouldn't discuss the case with him. His pain made his irritability much worse. So she knew, the grouchier he got, the more pain he was in. So far she'd managed to get him to allow the nurses to give him medicine for his pain, but it was getting harder to convince him. However, she was learning how to manipulate his desires for his own good.

"Okay," she agreed, raising his hand to her mouth and kissing his fingers. "You eat your breakfast and I'll read you one article from the paper."

She'd been surprised to discover how much he enjoyed having her read to him, regardless of what she read. It could be the back of a cereal box; he loved to listen to her voice. There was something about the intimacy of it that turned him on. "Two," he pressed.

She felt a warm rush, fed by her memories. She had yet to complete anything that she began reading aloud to him. She saw it as a challenge. "Okay, two. But you have to eat everything."

"Read one of them to me while I eat."

"I'll think about it."

He reached out and tickled her side. Surprised, she laughed and squirmed, bending at the waist to pull her side away from his hand. Smiling, he took advantage of her position to pull her closer and kiss her. Although she knew that the nurse would return at any minute, she surrendered to his kiss. When his hand slid over her breast, though, she sat up. She knew how quickly passion could escalate between them, especially when he was being playful, and he wasn't as well as he wanted her to believe. She squeezed his hand and slid off the bed as the door opened.

Clara smiled at them. She had been a nurse for thirty years, and she knew people. They could call themselves whatever they wanted, she recognized lovers when she saw them. She also knew police officers—partners were not supposed to be lovers. She saw that they were trying to keep the private side of their relationship private, and she respected that. She would do nothing to out them to their boss or their colleagues.

With Eames' help, she got him out of bed and into the chair. He was fairly comfortable in the pajamas Eames had gotten for him—a lot more comfortable than he would have been in a hospital gown—and he let his nurse fuss over him for a few minutes.

"There you are," she said. "Let's see how long you can be up comfortably. You lasted half an hour yesterday. Let's try an hour today."

"How long do I have to stay up before you let me go home?"

She smiled. "That's up to your doctors, dear."

Clara stripped his bed and remade it while Eames got his breakfast and arranged it on the tray table.

"Just call me if you need anything," the nurse said as she left the room.

Eames wheeled the tray in front of him. "Do you want me to heat up your coffee?"

"No. I want you to stay here," he answered, rubbing his hand lightly over the bandages on his side.

"Do you hurt?" she asked, reading his tone and his actions.

"No...yes. I...yes, I hurt. Just give me a minute for the pain to settle."

She pulled up a chair and took his free hand in hers. She began to massage his hand, giving him a focus other than his pain. His tension slowly eased as the medicine took hold of the pain again. He leaned toward her and freed his hand to pull her closer. She slid her arms around his neck and hugged him. "I don't want to be here any longer," he murmured into her ear. "I want to go home and be with you."

She shivered at the tone of his voice and the whisper of his breath across her ear. "I know," she replied. "But you have more healing to do before you can go home, before we can do anything. The better you cooperate, the sooner you get to leave."

He grunted softly and turned his head, brushing his lips over her cheek to her mouth. He caught her in a kiss that quickly intensified. She relaxed against him, allowing them both a chance to enjoy the contact before she pulled away. She couldn't let it go on too long. Her body yearned for him, aching to be with him, and she knew he felt the same longing. She touched his mouth and he kissed her fingertips.

"Eat your breakfast," she said, walking over to her chair and picking up the paper. "I'll read one article while you eat and another after you finish. What do you want to hear? Headlines, local news, sports..."

"Headlines."

She settled into the chair and searched for a news story in which he would be interested while he looked over his food. He was unimpressed. He had progressed to a full liquid diet, which was a little better than clear liquids, but not much. While she read, as promised, he ate his breakfast, enjoying the sound of her voice a great deal more than he enjoyed his food.

He had just finished eating and she was clearing off the tray table when her phone rang. She pulled it out. _Logan_. Taking the call, she put the phone to her ear. "Eames."

"Hey, sorry to bother you. Wheeler and I are at the squad...you need to come over here. Now."

"What is it?" she asked, annoyed.

"This is something you have to see for yourself. Right away. Ross is on his way in, too, and I'd rather you got here first."

She looked at her partner, who had perked up with interest. "All right, Mike. I'll be right there."

She ended the call and shoved her phone in her pocket. "I have to run over to the squad room. I'll be back as fast as I can."

"What's going on?"

"He wouldn't tell me over the phone."

"Are you going to tell me?"

She leaned down to kiss him. "Yes, I'll tell you as soon as I get back."

"Promise?"

His tone told her he wasn't sure she meant it. "I promise."

"I finished my breakfast. You owe me."

"Absolutely. When I get back."

He nodded, leaning back in the chair. "I'll be waiting."

She smiled as she stepped into her shoes. "Behave," she teased.

"What am I gonna do?"

She gave him a look of deep affection and left the room.


	22. Discovery

The squad room was unusually busy for a Sunday morning when Eames arrived. As she stepped off the elevator, she could tell that the activity was centered around her and Goren's desks. She was almost at the desks when enough people cleared the way for her to see what was happening. A body was stretched across the two desks with a white and yellow flower on his chest.

Logan approached her as soon as he saw her. "Alex..."

"What the hell is going on, Mike?"

"We're pulling the elevator cameras. Sometime during the night, somebody left you a calling card. Jeffries came in to catch up on paperwork and found him."

She walked around to get a look at the body and wished her partner was there. Although she had no reservations about examining a body, she was always intrigued by the things he saw, felt and smelled. He noticed details that most people missed, finding significance in things that most would overlook. "Take plenty of pictures from every angle, Marty," she told the photographer. "I want to give Goren the chance to see everything we see."

The victim rested diagonally across both desks with his head on Goren's and his feet hanging off hers. She had just begun to examine the body with Logan when Ross arrived. He walked over to the desks and looked at the victim. "Do we know how he got in here?"

"No," responded Wheeler.

"I can't see anyone carrying a body up eleven flights of stairs," Logan added. "We're pulling the elevator tapes."

"Who was the last to leave last night?"

"DiMarco. He left around midnight," Wheeler replied. She and Logan had already asked the same questions to establish a timeline. "Jeffries found him at seven when he came in. He called Logan because he knew Logan and I are working the case with Goren and Eames. Logan met me here and then he called Eames."

Ross noticed Eames for the first time. "How is your partner?"

"He's doing better."

With a nod, he stepped away from the desks. "I want to know how this happened, people. I want to know who he is and how his body got in here. Jeffries, go to the desk downstairs, find out who was on overnight and talk to him. Wake him up, if you have to. I want to know what he saw and what he didn't see between midnight and seven this morning. Get moving."

Logan lifted the flower from the victim's chest once the photographer was done. He studied the flower as Eames readied an evidence bag. "We got any gardeners or botanists here?" he asked, waving the flower in the air.

"Ask Goren," someone said. "I bet he'll know what it is."

Logan looked at Eames, who pulled out her phone and took a picture of the flower. "I'll ask him."

Logan dropped the bloom into the evidence bag and Eames added it to the growing pile of evidence they were accumulating, all of which would lead them nowhere, she was certain. She was very frustrated, and she planned to share her frustration with her partner.

* * *

Eames had finished at the crime scene that the squad room had been turned into and was just getting ready to return to the hospital when her phone rang. "Eames."

"Detective, this is Officer Murphy, at the hospital. We have a gentleman here wanting to see Goren. He said you approved his visit. His name is Terrance Sutter."

"Yes, I approved it. You can let him in to see Goren."

"Yes, ma'am. Is there a time limit on how long he can stay?"

"I'll deal with that; I'll be there shortly."

"Yes, ma'am."

She shoved her phone in her pocket and headed for the elevators. She had just pressed the down button when Ross called her back. As he led her to his office, he said, "Let's take a few minutes so you can fill me in on the progress you're making in your case."

Frustrated and anxious to get back to Goren, she felt trapped as she began to talk. It shouldn't have taken long, but it did.

* * *

Goren looked up when the door opened, subconsciously sitting up straighter when Sutter came into the room. He was pleased to see the colonel and fought down the pain that was beginning to work its way through the medication Clara gave him not that long ago. "Colonel Sutter," he began.

Sutter shook his hand, pulled a chair close and sat down. "How do you feel, son?"

"I'm recovering."

At the moment, he was just uncomfortable. Compounding his discomfort, he missed Eames, and he was eager to know what had happened in the squad room. Sutter could tell he was hurting. "Should I come back another time?"

"No, please stay."

He was surprised to realize he was lonely, and he wondered if the change in his relationship with Eames had a more far-reaching effect on him than he realized. He felt less uptight with Sutter there, though he was still anxious for his partner to return.

"You tell me when you've had enough, then. I'll keep you company for as long as you'd like me to stay."

Goren looked at his hands, unwilling to appear desperate for company. Sutter didn't push it. Goren rubbed his temple when the room started spinning. It took a few minutes to settle. Sutter watched him with concern. "Tell me honestly: how do you feel?"

The colonel was interested in him and his well-being, and he struggled with that. He had a very small circle of people to whom he considered himself close, aside from his brother, and he didn't quite know how to respond when anyone outside that circle expressed honest concern for him. He knew how to play the game with girlfriends, but that's all it was to him, a game...until he fell in love with Eames. Then, all the rules changed and he was still adapting, still learning how it all worked when the feelings were real.

But he was unprepared for Sutter, and he found himself resenting his mother for robbing him of a father he could have loved, one who would have been kind and supportive, a more attentive, loving and involved father than William Goren ever was. Although he'd always gotten much of the love and attention he needed from Frank, it just wasn't the same as having a father. And he couldn't help thinking that it wouldn't have hurt his brother any for Sutter to have been there for them. Maybe Frank's life would have taken a different turn.

Shaking off the melancholy and resentment that were part of the abandonment issues with which he struggled, he answered Sutter's query. "I, uh, I'm...doing okay. I still hurt quite a bit, but that's to be expected."

"How much damage was done?"

"My liver was hit but it will heal. I'm still recovering from shock and blood loss, but I should be able to go home in a few days. I'll be back on the job within the month."

"The man who stabbed you...he's involved with the Chinese mob?"

"He was. He, uhm, he got it worse than I did when he broke into my apartment. My partner is a good shot."

"You're lucky she is. Robert, I am very concerned for you and your partner. The Triad is nothing to be trifled with."

Goren studied the colonel with a critical eye. "What do you know of the Triad, colonel?"

"Only as much as I need to know to keep my business safe."

Goren's head was still fuzzy from the pain medicine and he was distracted by the pain and by a maelstrom of emotions he was not used to handling, so it took him longer than normal to process his thoughts. Putting Sutter together with the mob was a struggle for him. "Safe? How can you say you've kept it safe after what happened to Annie and Morris?"

"How certain are you that it was a mob hit?"

"We're positive. We have evidence to prove that Quon Li was involved."

"Quon Li?"

"An enforcer for the Triad. He was the man in the picture we showed you the other night, and he's the one who did this to me."

Sutter looked profoundly sad. "My encounters with the Triad have been limited until now. Annie and Morris were approached in Hong Kong and asked to import some items for a fee much greater than the items were worth. They refused. Since they returned, Annie noticed someone in the store, watching her. When she saw the same man several times, in places other than the shop, she became worried and confided in Penny, her best friend. Penny came to see me early this morning. Although Annie and Morris told me about the man in Hong Kong, I hadn't heard about the one here in New York until I talked to Penny."

Goren rubbed his forehead, frustrated. "We'll have to talk to Penny, to see if she saw the man and can identify him. We'll also need to talk to the other shop employees again. Maybe they saw the man, too. Did Penny say why Annie didn't come to you?"

"At the time, she thought it was someone her ex-boyfriend sent to watch her. He was very controlling and he had trouble letting go of her."

"Do you know his name?"

Sutter nodded. "I'll give it to your partner." He paused and sadly shook his head. "Annie was so innocent. I never thought the mob was after her."

"But what about you?" Being a cop was deeply ingrained in him. Even when he was off his game, the cop in him came through. "Have they threatened you in any way?"

Sutter was touched by the younger man's concern. "There's no need for you to be concerned about me and my family."

Goren frowned deeply as he rubbed his side. "Why not?"

"Hasn't your partner told you about our discussion the other evening?"

"What are you talking about?"

Sutter realized that Eames had chosen not to fill him in yet on the talk she and Logan had with him shortly after Goren's surgery. Although he trusted her judgment, he knew that Goren wouldn't let him get away with not explaining. "The night of your surgery she and another detective came to see me. She wanted to discuss the mob angle of your case."

Goren's intense interest in the case helped him ignore the increasing pain in his abdomen. "What about it?"

"If she hasn't discussed it with you..."

"She's being overprotective. Tell me what you talked about."

Sutter hesitated a moment, also inclined to protect him, but when Goren became more agitated, he responded. "Do you know who Beno Masucci is?"

"Of course."

"Although I have no involvement in Beno's business activities, he and I have been close friends since college. His daughter is engaged to my son. Beno is the reason I am free to say no to the mob—any faction of it—without repercussion."

Goren was stunned by his revelation. Sutter and his family were protected by the mob. He would never have put the squeaky-clean colonel together with organized crime in any fashion. What had he missed? He rubbed the back of his neck, agitated. "There's nothing..." he trailed off.

"I told you, I have no involvement with the business side of Beno's world. I never have."

Goren didn't know what to make of that information. Although he trusted Sutter, he was unhappy to learn he had _any_ dealings with the Masuccis. The pain he'd been able to push to the side for a few minutes grabbed his attention with renewed ferocity as his tension increased. He pressed his hand firmly against his side and tried to suppress a groan.

"Shall I get a nurse?"

"N-No. Not right now."

Although he hadn't known him long, Sutter felt as though he'd known Goren all his life. His wife had not forgotten her sons and she'd spoken of them often over the years, with great affection, which he had never discouraged. Just as often, he'd felt grief for her loss—and for his own in never having had the chance to know her boys. He knew more of Goren's young life than Goren likely remembered.

He gently placed a fatherly hand on Goren's arm. "Please, proceed carefully."

"It wasn't carelessness that caused this."

"Son, I warned you that you're entering dangerous territory."

Goren was restless and the pain was worsening. He shifted again, pausing to let the pain settle. "Is there something else you're not telling me, colonel?"

Having told Goren he was close to Beno Masucci, Sutter would say no more about it. He knew he could never tell Goren about the deal he'd made that morning, but he didn't regret it. Not one bit. Knowing he was under the protection of a Masucci would never sit well with Goren, and so he would never know. "No. I'm just very worried about you, you—and your partner." He paused as Goren tucked his chin down, eyes closed, to let a wave of pain pass. "Maybe I should get your nurse..."

"No. Just...stay..."

The colonel frowned. "Your partner will be very unhappy with me," he argued. He sensed a connection between Goren and Eames that went beyond the partner relationship. He decided to test what he sensed was true. "You love her," Sutter said quietly.

Goren's reaction to that simple statement was very powerful, and Sutter knew he was right. "Does she know how you feel?" Sutter asked.

"She knows, but I'm not sure how you do."

Sutter smiled. "I know how to read people, my boy. You are a difficult read, but not impossible. I know you looked into my background during your investigation. What did you find?"

Goren shifted again. "Colonel, you are not a suspect. We don't have the time to waste doing in depth checks into the background of every person we talk to over the course of an investigation."

"Well put, but not quite the truth. The depth of your investigation has nothing to do with the case. You checked into me because of my wife."

Sutter was a very smart man, something else with which Goren could identify. He tried hard not to imagine what his adolescence would have been like had his mother chosen to include him and Frank in her new life, but he could not help the bitter resentment that he felt toward her for leaving them the way she did.

Goren rubbed the back of his head. "Our preliminary investigation revealed nothing. Not even a parking ticket. At that point, we didn't know how you were involved in this. I called a buddy of mine who is still with CID and we checked into your military records. You've lived a solid, clean life, colonel. Your military record is full of commendations but not a single reprimand. I admit, as a cop, I am always suspicious of investigations that come up empty, but the deeper we dug, the less we found."

"Maybe I'm just good at not getting caught," Sutter suggested.

Goren met his eyes and the corner of his mouth turned up in a half-smile. "No one is that good."

Sutter laughed softly. "Truthfully, your mother kept me too busy to get into trouble. Keep going."

"At first, our investigation concentrated specifically on your Chinatown store. We didn't find anything recent, but back ten, fifteen years..."

"My brother's judgment wasn't always the best, and he didn't always listen to me. Greg didn't have the same motivation I did. Every decision I ever made was always with my family in mind. I never wanted the dark side of life to touch my children in any way. Even their mother's illness—I tried to protect them from that part of her, which wasn't always easy. When I was deployed, Greg and our sister Tanya watched over Frankie and the children." He shifted his position and straightened his shirt, a remnant of his years in the military. "But we digress. Did you look into my educational background?"

"You have an M.B.A. from Columbia and a Ph.D. from NYU."

Sutter nodded. "Business was the practical side of my education, but psychology, that's where my interest is."

Goren nodded. "I understand that."

His own interest in psychology and human behavior began as a result of his mother's illness. Concerned about the chance that he and his brother might have of developing their mother's illness, he began to research. The more he learned, the more deeply into the field he'd been drawn. Had he not been a cop, chances were equal he would have been a criminal...or he would have gone into psychology. While he was in South Korea, Declan Gage had noticed his innate skill at reading people and he'd taken full advantage of it, training him to be a profiler, which secured his career as a cop. Apparently, Sutter saw the same thing Gage had.

The colonel explained, "I've spent my life reading people, but it is a skill I had to learn, one I must work at to keep sharp. I do not have the natural ability you have. Whether you realize it or not, you use that skill to hide your true self, and how you feel, from everyone around you, and you do it quite well. Most people would never know that Alex is anything more than your partner, but I have had the chance to see you with your guard down. You depend on her for more than back-up in the field. And she is fiercely protective of you. When she came to see me Friday night with Detective Logan, I could see her worry. She defends you without hesitation. Your affection is deeply returned, my boy."

"I transferred to Major Case in 1998. I went through a string of partners before they stuck her with me in 1999. We've been partners ever since. She learned how to handle me and, somewhere along the line, our relationship became more. I don't know how, or even when. I just know that it did."

"I did some research of my own," Sutter admitted. "Frank has been in enough trouble for both of you."

"It wasn't always that way. Frank had his hands full dealing with me after Mom left. He didn't have the time to get in trouble."

"When did he start using drugs?"

Goren rubbed the back of his neck. "He experimented before she left. Her illness was hard on both of us. But he didn't get heavily into it until he was no longer responsible for me."

"And you? When did you start?"

"Around the time my mother left, I suppose."

"But you didn't continue."

"Just after I turned eighteen, my brother overdosed. That scared the hell out of me. I couldn't get past the fact that, if Frank died, I would be alone in the world, and I wasn't ready for that. And it wasn't something I could do to him. I stopped using everything but pot at that point. I gave up pot when I went into the army."

"Has he overdosed since?"

"Not that I know."

"Did you ever think that he had been teaching you a lesson?"

Goren looked at his hands. "The thought had crossed my mind. Frank is a very...creative problem solver."

Sutter smiled. "You don't have much of a police record, compared to your brother. A few bar fights, a couple of reprimands for insubordination. You had anger control issues."

"I still have anger issues, but my control is better. I just...I was very good at not getting caught, and my brother was good at talking me out of serious trouble."

"What was the worst you did?" Sutter asked, honestly interested.

"There's so much to choose from," he said, only half kidding. "I guess I'd have to say...it was the night I went out with a buddy...his older brother got us beer and I stole some of Frank's stash, some pot and a few pills. I didn't know for sure what they were. We got really wasted and picked up some girls...and then we stole a car out in Brighton Beach. My buddy was driving when we got pulled over, and he got arrested, but he convinced the cops to just bring me home. Said my old man would punish me worse than any judge ever would, and he would have if he'd cared enough to come around. I don't know what happened to the girls." He smiled at the memory. "They were a lot of fun."

"How old were you?"

"Fifteen."

"What did Frank do?"

"He was surprised; he didn't know I'd gone out. He grounded me for two weeks. He and I had been planning a camping trip the next weekend, and he canceled it. I was really pissed, but he was right. He tried really hard to do right by me."

"When did you take that camping trip?"

Goren smiled. "After my grounding was done."

"Frank did a good job. Look at you now. You overcame a troubled start, and that's no small accomplishment. You have a career in public service and a woman who obviously loves you. You should be proud."

Goren shrugged, doing his best to ignore the pain that now flared with every movement. "Proud of Frank, yes. He did a good job under very difficult circumstances. But me? No. I turned out well because of Frank, and I avoided real trouble out of sheer dumb luck."

"Don't sell yourself short, my boy. Your partner doesn't."

He tried not to think about Eames because that made him more aware of her absence and he missed her enough as it was. She was definitely the one thing he had done right, the one good part of what his life had become. Despite the pain, he found himself wanting her.

The door swung open, and he looked expectantly toward it, waiting for Eames to come into the room. But it wasn't Eames who entered. Goren's face lost its color as he recognized the woman who came through the door. He struggled to catch his breath and his heart rate skyrocketed. An officer followed right behind her. "I'm sorry, sir. I told her she couldn't come in, but she shoved past me."

Goren waved his hand at the worried officer. "It's fine, Murph," he said, although it wasn't fine at all. But he didn't want the blame to fall on Murphy's shoulders.

"Yes, sir," Murphy said, backing out of the room.

Goren's visitor was Sutter's wife.

* * *

**A/N: This chapter took a little longer to prepare because a lot of editing was involved. The next one shouldn't take as long.**


	23. Stirring Up The Past

Sutter got to his feet and approached his wife, speaking to her softly, "What are you doing here, Frankie? I told you I would be home by four."

"I wanted to see for myself who you were visiting," she answered.

Sutter sighed. The weeks that followed his wife's hospitalizations could be trying. "You should have listened to the officer in the hall."

She made a noise of disdain that Goren recognized, even after so many years. "He was trying to be a bully."

"He was trying to do his job."

She shook her finger at him. "I told him if he touched me, he would regret it."

"Dear, he would have had every right to lay his hands on you, even to arrest you."

She made another noise of disdain. "Who does he think he's guarding? The King of Siam?"

"He's guarding an officer who was injured in the line of duty and whose life may still be in danger."

She looked past him and studied Goren with an intense glare that he remembered all too well. Slowly, she approached him. His breathing became uneven as his anxiety level climbed. He was not ready for this, and he really wanted Eames now. He had no idea what to expect. Sutter remained close, ready to react if he felt the need to protect Goren. His wife was often unpredictable, even to him.

"What's so special about this man?" Frankie asked.

_Not a damn thing_, Goren thought to himself.

_Everything_, thought Sutter as he met Goren's eyes with an apology before he patiently responded, "He's one of the detectives investigating Annie and Morris' deaths."

She frowned. "How did he manage to get hurt doing that?"

"A suspect attacked him in his home in the middle of the night."

"You should lock your doors, detective," she chided.

Goren shifted uncomfortably, his tension increasing with each passing moment, worsening the pain in his side, which made it even harder to breathe. He didn't respond to her comment, remembering her reaction to anything she perceived as disrespect from him when he was a child. He tightly gripped the arms of the chair to keep his hands from trembling as he wondered if Eames knew about the visit. Sutter certainly seemed surprised.

Sutter reached out and his wife laid her hand in his. "This is my wife, Frankie," he said gently to Goren before turning to his wife. "Honey, this officer's name is Robert."

She studied him hard with a critical eye and he averted his eyes, uncertain. He didn't know how to interact with her. When he'd known her, perceived slights against her were often met with a cuff to the head. He didn't know how much she had changed. Goren didn't like being uncertain, and he liked even less being needy, but, God help him, he was...he needed Eames. Without her, he felt lost, floundering about without focus or direction. He was shaken and he couldn't get his bearings.

Sutter noticed his unrest and he was angry at his wife, but he refused to embarrass her in front of someone she thought a stranger. He would address her jealousy later. In over thirty years, he had never given her cause for jealousy, but it became an issue for her after almost every hospitalization. The doctors speculated that it was some subconscious manifestation of her former life. Perhaps Goren could enlighten him, but now was not the time to ask.

Goren watched his mother uneasily, overcome with memories and emotions he hadn't had to deal with in over three decades. He pressed his hand firmly against his injury, hoping to ease the growing pain. A soft groan got away from him.

"Shall I get a nurse?" Sutter asked, deeply concerned.

Goren shook his head. "I...I'll be all right."

Frankie nudged her husband. "Get me a chair, Terry."

Sutter looked at Goren, who barely inclined his head. He pulled up a chair for her and she sat close to Goren. "Were you badly hurt? Tell me how it happened."

"Frankie..."

"Hush," she admonished. "I'm talking to this young man. Don't be rude." She turned back to Goren, who remembered that scolding tone, delivered with much more venom. "Go on. Tell me."

His mother had always been outspoken and assertive, often at the worst of times. He remembered her rages, driven by the delusions that were born of her disease. Sometimes, he relived those rages in his dreams, his nightmares. Among the worst of his memories, even worse than the beatings, was the closet, where she used to lock him to protect him from 'them,' the people—he always assumed 'they' were people—who were out to get her and, through her, her sons. The cramped closeness of that dark, stuffy closet had given birth to the claustrophobia that still plagued him.

He was still pale, and his breathing was uneven. With one hand pressed over his wound, he continued to grip the armrest of his chair with the other. He felt sick to his stomach.

"I'm waiting," she insisted, beginning to lose patience with him. "Are you sure you're all right?"

Deeply agitated, he was restless and unsettled but he had no way to vent his energy. His side now throbbed mercilessly and sweat beaded on his forehead and upper lip. He pushed his hand through his hair, his breathing still ragged. "I...uh, y-yes, Mrs. Sutter...I'm okay."

And he felt incredibly guilty that the first thing he said to his mother in over three decades was a lie. He looked away from her. She reached out unexpectedly to touch his chin, and he flinched, a long-forgotten response to which he had been conditioned by the abuse of his young childhood, resurrected after many long years by the sound of her voice. The abuse had stopped after she left; Frank had never hit him. But part of him never forgot.

She ignored his flinch, unaware she was the cause of it. Sutter, however, became more concerned. "Honey, maybe we should go. Robert is recovering from a very serious injury."

With her hand still on his chin, she gently guided his face around so he would look at her. "Nonsense," she said to her husband as she studied Goren's face. "He says he's all right and I want to hear his story."

_Story_...he remembered the stories. Every night, after she tucked him into bed, she read him a story. She taught him to read, too, when he was very little. He thrived under her loving hand, and by the time he began kindergarten, he was reading at a third grade level. She'd called him her little scholar, and he would have done anything to make her proud. Once he began to read, she would choose simple books and have him read to her. She had been patient and loving with him back then. He was too little to notice the early signs of her destabilizing mind. Those earliest memories of her remained untainted by the dark shadow of abuse. He refused to consider that his mind might have cleaned up those particular memories, making them more "fairy-tale-ish" than the actual events had been. Frank had corrected many of the inaccuracies his young mind had worked into his memories, but those early memories were ones he had always cherished and never shared with his brother. His mind had created an early image of a kind, loving mother, who had been taken from him years before she physically left.

He glanced at Sutter, and saw a strong, patient and loving protector. Sutter was the kind of husband and father he hoped he would someday have the chance to be. Unbidden came memories of William Goren, the father fate had dealt him. He remembered the bruises he'd received at his father's hand as the man tried to "toughen" him up. His mother was turning him into a pansy, according to William Goren, who was determined that his boys would become "men," crafted in his image of what a man should be. However, Bobby had learned a different lesson than the ones his father tried to teach. Women always fell for charm, but it took more than that to keep them around. Somewhere along the way, against the odds, he had learned to be kind.

William's abuse was not limited to his sons, either. He beat his wife, too, particularly when he came home after a night of overindulging in booze and women. Goren remembered that he and Frank once tried to protect her, little though they were. The broken arm Frank received for his efforts was an effective lesson and he stopped interfering. Bobby, however, never stopped trying to protect her, not even after he'd spent a week in the hospital with injuries his father had inflicted. William Goren told the hospital he'd been hit by a car, a story both he and Frank had been too frightened to refute and one their mother had never questioned.

She moved her hand from his chin and took his hand in hers. "Go on. Tell me what happened to you."

He looked at her face, into dark eyes that were much like his own. He then looked up at Sutter, who loved this woman and had taken care of her, ensuring that she received proper care for her disease. It must have made a huge difference in her life. Properly medicated, she would have been normal most of the time. And Sutter very obviously loved her. The love and care that he'd provided for the past three decades must have made all the difference for her.

She continued to hold his hand, oblivious to his identity, encouraging him to tell her how he'd been injured. His agitation increased, though he struggled hard to keep it under control. "You don't need to hear the details," he said. "All you need to know is that I was...injured, in the line of duty, but I'm going to be okay. I'll go home in a few days."

"I'll bet your wife and children miss you."

He shook his head. "I'm not married, Mrs. Sutter. I don't have any children."

"No? What a waste of a life. Surely you have plenty of girls fawning all over you."

Her words hit him hard. _A waste of a life..._

Wishing he had more control over the things his wife said, Sutter stepped in. "Frankie, he needs to rest now. We..."

He was interrupted when the door opened and Eames came into the room. She stopped by the door, surprised by the visitors. Sutter, she expected, but not his wife. Her eyes shifted to her partner. The first thing she noticed was his distress. "Bobby..." she said quietly, worried.

"Alex," he softly responded, but he said no more. He didn't need to.

"Frankie," said Sutter to his wife. "This is Detective Eames, Robert's partner."

Eames nodded at the older woman. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Sutter."

Eames looked back at Goren, studying him with an eye that knew him well. She took in his pale face and the sweat that rolled from his brow. She knew he was uptight and very upset. It was going to take her the rest of the afternoon to settle him down. "Colonel Sutter, I need to talk to you."

"Of course." He touched his wife's shoulder. "We really should be leaving, Frankie. We have bothered this poor boy enough and we need to prepare for our dinner reservations."

Frankie smiled at Goren. "Our daughter and grandson are coming to the city this evening from our summer home, and we're all having dinner with our son and his lovely fiancee. I've been away, so I haven't seen them lately." She stood up, releasing his hand. "It was a pleasure to meet you."

Sutter led his wife to the door. "Just wait outside with the officers and I will be along momentarily."

He kissed her cheek. Once she was gone from the room, Eames turned on him. "What the hell, colonel? You should have talked to me before you brought her up here. Look at him!"

"Eames..." Goren began.

She waved her hand at him, but didn't turn away from Sutter. "I can't believe you would do this!"

Sutter held out his hands, imploring her to listen. "Detective, please. Listen to me. I did not bring her. There are...issues that we have to deal with after her hospitalizations. As she returns to normal, she goes through certain stages, and one of them is jealousy, which I never understood. I told her I was going to stop by to visit him, and I guess she followed me. I was going to leave with her right away, but it's not that easy."

"What about him?" Eames demanded, still furious. "This wasn't fair to him, colonel!"

"I know, and I am very sorry. If I had any idea she'd followed me, I would have waited to visit."

While Sutter spoke, Eames looked at her partner, and she knew he wasn't okay. Still pale and sweating, his breathing had not settled back into its normal rhythm. "You need to be more careful," she warned Sutter. "He needs time to prepare if he's going to deal with her."

"He did well, considering the circumstances." He moved to Goren's side and squatted beside him, resting his hand over Goren's. "You did very well, but I am sorry she upset you."

"I just...I wasn't prepared. I guess there's a lot more to it than I expected."

Sutter patted his shoulder with affection. "I'll see you soon."

"Yes, sir."

Rising, Sutter nodded at Eames and left the room. She shook her head, then moved to the chair vacated by his mother. She pushed it a little closer to him and sat down. "I can't tell you how angry I am at him for ambushing you like that. I'm sorry, Bobby."

"It wasn't his fault, or yours." He shifted uncomfortably. "Alex...I...I need...you. I really do."

She rested her hand over his and leaned in to kiss him. Unexpectedly, he slid his arm under hers and around her torso, pulling her into his lap. He grunted deeply when she landed against his belly, but he didn't release her. She struggled for a brief moment before she gave up and relaxed in his arms, surrendering to his kiss. He made another noise, a soft moan of pleasure in sharp contrast to his grunt of pain, and he slid his hand under her shirt. He began to let go of the tension that had been building since his mother walked into the room.

Eames started to respond to him. His touch stoked a fire that simmered in the center of her body whenever he was near. She groaned and shifted against him, engulfed by the flames. When her bra fell open inside her shirt, she laughed against his mouth and, with great reluctance, gently wriggled her way loose. "Behave yourself," she hissed, weak in the knees and trembling with desire as she rehooked her bra.

"It's my room," he complained, struggling to seem better than he was so she would come back for more.

"This isn't a hotel, Bobby, and the door doesn't lock. It might not bother you to be walked in on, but it bothers me."

Although her words carried the heat of mock anger, her eyes burned bright with a different kind of heat, which she knew he saw and that just made things worse. "Keep improving like this and you'll be home in no time," she teased, hoping he would continue to settle down. But he didn't.

She knew it wasn't physical improvement that fueled his desperate display of passion. He was unsettled, deeply agitated and very upset by the unexpected visit. Having had no time to prepare himself, he'd been assaulted by long-buried memories and emotions that he had not been prepared to face. In the wake of such a powerful assault on his internal equilibrium, he desperately needed something to counterbalance the feelings his mother had stirred. Unfortunately, this was neither the time nor the place for her to let him have what he wanted, what he _needed_, so badly, and she felt guilty about that.

She sat back down and grasped his hand. He closed his fingers around her smaller hand and looked at her. He began to feel more settled with her there, although his mother's admonition haunted him. _What a waste of a_ _life_... Her visit took a toll on him and it would take a long time for him to recover from it. He had no chance to build up his defenses, and her every word struck a raw nerve. He was an emotional wreck with a very long way to go to recover his equilibrium.

As upset as he was inside his head, physically, he continued to feel worse. The room still spun, and it began to fade in and out. He focused on Eames, trying to stabilize himself. His breathing had still not settled back into a normal, easy rhythm. She pressed the nurse call button on the side rail of his bed. It was a last resort, but maybe some sedation would do him good. When the speaker on the wall asked what the problem was, she answered urgently, "Send his nurse in here now."

"She'll be right in."

"Thank you." She turned back to him. "Bobby," she said softly. "How do you feel?"

Although his eyes remained on her, she could tell he was struggling to focus. There was no clarity in his expression. "Talk to me," she urged, but he remained silent.

Clara came into the room, surprised by how much worse he looked. "Oh, you poor dear," she fussed. "I think we should restrict your visitors for a few more days. Let's get you back in bed and I'll give you a good dose of pain medicine. We can get you up and walking tomorrow."

Reluctantly letting the two women help him, Goren got up from the chair. The room began to spin faster as darkness developed on all sides. He tried to fight it off, but he felt hot and nauseous. The darkness closed in, restricting his field of vision. "Alex..." he murmured as the room whirled around him and tilted, increasing the sick feeling in his stomach.

Before she could answer him, and before she and Clara could get him to the bed, the spinning room turned upside down and everything went black.


	24. Waiting

Eames felt his body go limp and she shifted herself against him so that when he went down, she went with him, cushioning his head with her body. Clara did what she could to ease his fall and then she called for help. Several orderlies responded, and by the time they got him into the bed, his doctor had arrived.

The doctor examined him quickly. "Let's get him downstairs right away," he ordered urgently. "Get a surgical suite prepped STAT."

"What's wrong with him?" Eames asked, trying not to let her worry get the best of her.

"He's bleeding internally. We have to get him into surgery now. Any more wasted time and we could lose him."

Eames was impressed by the speed with which the medical team worked and, before she knew it, she was back in the surgical waiting room. She pulled out her phone and called Logan, but when he answered, she found herself unable to say the words.

"Hello? Eames?"

The concern in his voice just upset her more. Finally, she managed to say his name, but that was all. "I'm on my way," he said without hesitation. "I'll find you."

She dropped the phone and buried her face in her hands, which was where he found her. He sat beside her and slid his arm around her shoulders. "Hey, honey," he whispered.

Hating herself for not being stronger, she turned into his arms, buried her face in his shirt and cried. Silently, he held her, setting her needs ahead of his curiosity. He knew something bad had happened, but the details would have to wait.

It took a while for her to settle down and sit back away from him. He got up and crossed the room to the coffee machine in the corner, returning with a cup of coffee for each of them. "I haven't had as much practice as Goren in getting it right," he said as he handed her a cup. "But maybe it's close."

She took a sip and nodded. "Much better than the last one," she said as he sat beside her.

"It's not easy to make sludge and roof tar tasty."

She gave him a small laugh, which he appreciated, and he handed her a handful of napkins, which she appreciated. He leaned forward, picked her phone up off the floor and handed it to her as he asked, "Wanna tell me what happened?"

She tucked her phone in her pocket and took another sip of coffee, taking the time to compose herself. "He's bleeding internally so they had to take him back to surgery."

"Why? What happened?"

"I don't know. But...he was upset, Mike."

"About what?"

"His mother came to visit unannounced, and he wasn't ready for it."

Logan scowled. "What the hell is wrong with that Sutter guy?"

"It wasn't his fault. I told him that he could visit, and Bobby was expecting him. But there are issues with Mrs. Sutter and she followed him to the hospital. He didn't know she was there until she came into the room."

"Why the hell did Murphy and Kowalski let her in?"

"I asked them the same question. She told him she was Sutter's wife and since he had permission, Murphy escorted her into the room. He would have had to physically restrain her otherwise, so he made the right decision. Bobby told him it was okay."

"But it wasn't."

"No, but it wasn't Murphy's fault. He handled it right." She shifted in her chair and took another drink of coffee. "It's very complicated, Mike. Has he told you anything about her?"

He nodded. "I know she's schizophrenic. He's told me some stories, but he's really gotta be wasted to talk about her. Frank is a little more forthcoming, but not much. They have some real horror stories. Things got a lot better after she left, even though it was a struggle to survive."

"You know Frank?"

"I've gone out with Bobby and Frank has joined us when he was in town." He paused. "Bobby knows you don't like Frank..."

"It's not that. I don't know him well enough to like him or dislike him. I just...don't like what happens when he comes around. I don't like what he does to Bobby."

"What he does to Bobby? Sweetheart, what Bobby does, he does to himself. He's just more uninhibited around Frank. But he doesn't talk about Frank much when you're around. It's important to him to keep the peace with you."

She frowned. "How many times has he joined you?"

"I don't know. I don't keep track of that kind of stuff. But he lives in Atlantic City and comes up regularly to see Bobby."

"I only know of four or five times he's come around since we've been partners."

Logan smiled. "Those are only the times they've gotten in trouble. They're very close, Alex. Bobby doesn't like it that Frank's an addict, but that's a road he only just barely avoided himself. And he has never forgotten the sacrifices Frank made for him. Frank is proud as a peacock of his little brother—proud that he's done something good with his life, that he had the strength of will to avoid a life ruled by addiction. Actually, they're a blast to be around after a couple of beers on a Friday night. You should join us sometime. You might even grow to like Frank."

"What about Frank's drugs?"

"What about 'em? Do you think he brings 'em with and passes around the pipe whenever they get together? Come on. Bobby's a cop, and Frank would never put him in that position. He doesn't bring his drugs when he gets together with Bobby. Well...he made a mistake that once, but it was only once."

"So Bobby was being honest when he told me he hadn't taken any drugs that night?"

"You doubted him? He doesn't lie to you, Alex. They did a tox screen on him that night. He was clean. That was why Deakins went out on a limb for him like he did. He was drunk as hell and still in trouble, but he wasn't stoned. You have preconceived notions about Frank that I'm not sure he deserves."

She gave that some thought. "Can you get in touch with Frank?"

"Probably."

"Then call him. Let him know that Bobby's been hurt." She gave him a look. "Have you already done that?"

"No. Bobby asked me not to."

"Why?"

"He didn't want to piss you off."

They had some work to do on their communication. She didn't like that he avoided things just to keep her from getting upset. Although part of her appreciated it, another part of her knew it wasn't healthy. "Call him," she said. "And if he wants to visit, let me know. I'll let him."

"Will you hang around if he does? I think that would mean a lot to Bobby."

"I'll think about it. But if he hits on me again, I'll deck him."

Logan laughed. "You'd probably have to beat Bobby to the punch."

She folded her hands together and squeezed them tight. "There's so much he keeps hidden, Mike."

"Give him some time. I don't think he's ever had a relationship as intense as the one he has with you. Being in love is a big adjustment for him. He's never had to share his life with anyone before."

There was so much about his life that she didn't know. There was a great deal of discovery in her future, if they overcame this hurdle. She stared at her hands, trying hard to control herself. Logan rested his hand on her back and tears began to roll down her cheeks. He pressed his forehead against the side of her head.

"I'm worried," she said softly, trying not to sob.

"What was he doing today?"

"Nothing. They got him sitting up in a chair like they did yesterday. He was up for a lot longer today. Colonel Sutter was his first visitor since he was injured...and then his mother came by." She paused. "I should have been here, Mike. He needed me and I should have been here."

"Alex, it wasn't your fault that you got called away by a crime scene. You know that was where he wanted to be."

"But look what happened while I was gone."

"What did his nurse say?"

"He never called her in."

"Do you think Sutter or his wife might be responsible?"

"I don't think Colonel Sutter would have let him get hurt. But I can call him and find out if he knows anything."

Logan nodded. "I think that's a good idea."

She pulled out her phone and called the colonel. When he answered, she could hear the noise of a restaurant in the background, with laughter and a young child's voice much closer. "I'm sorry to disturb you at your family dinner, colonel."

"Not at all, detective. Hold on for a moment." She listened to the muffled sounds but couldn't make out anything. When Sutter returned, the background noise was gone. "I'm sorry. Please go ahead."

"Colonel, when you visited my partner today, was he injured in any way?"

"Injured? No. Not at all. Why?"

"He...He's back in surgery with internal bleeding. He wasn't doing well."

"He was very pale and he seemed in a lot of pain the entire time I was there. But he never moved from the chair and he wasn't injured in any way. Not physically."

"What do you mean?"

"You were right when you said he was not prepared to face his mother. I still feel bad about the entire encounter."

"If you're okay with it, once he's feeling better, you and I can talk to him about it. I think he would appreciate your feedback. He seems to have developed an attachment to you."

"I'm pleased to hear that. I feel the same way. Trust me when I say that I was fully prepared to protect him if things had gone terribly wrong with my wife."

"I do believe that."

"Please, call me in the morning to let me know how he is doing."

"I will, colonel. Thank you."

She ended the call and slid her phone into her pocket. She felt a little more in control when she sat back down beside Logan. "Nothing happened to hurt him."

"I wonder if it happened because he was so uptight. You know how he gets."

"Maybe. I'm still upset that I wasn't there for him when he needed me."

"Tell you what. I'll take care of the case for now. I'll bring you all the documents, pictures, everything and you can work on it here with Einstein while Wheeler and I do all the legwork."

"Thank you, Mike."

He grinned. "You know he'll drive you crazy if he doesn't have something to do."

He was absolutely right. "Yes, he will. I hope you and Wheeler can keep up with him."

"We'll do our best."

He took her coffee cup and said, "I'll go get us a decent cup of coffee. Call me if they come out before I get back."

"Promise."

* * *

He was back for nearly an hour, their coffee long gone, when the surgeon finally came out to see them. He sat down wearily in a nearby chair and leaned forward to speak to them. "It was very touch and go, much moreso than the other day. He lost a lot more blood. He's currently on his third unit of whole blood and he's been getting fluids non-stop to replenish his fluid volume."

"What happened to him?"

"The laceration I sutured is healing nicely, but I missed a small bleeder that has been getting larger over the past two days. Two of us ran the entire area to make sure we didn't miss anything else. He's going to intensive care now and he'll be there until he's out of the woods. We have him on a respirator so we can adequately manage his pain without compromising his breathing, so don't be alarmed by that. It's a precaution."

"How long will he need that?" Logan asked.

"A couple of days at most. Once we take him off the respirator, he should be ready to go back to a regular room."

"Can I stay with him?" Eames asked.

He met her eyes and nodded. "Yes. I'll put it in his orders that you both be allowed 24 hour access."

"Thank you, Dr. Maxwell."

He got up and walked away wearily. Logan gave Eames a hug and kissed the top of her head. "I'll talk to Frank and let you know what he says. I'll bring you lunch along with any reports that turn up in the morning."

"Thank you, Mike."

"C'mon. I'll walk you to the ICU."

* * *

Logan stretched out on the couch and pulled out his phone. He dialed Frank's number, which Goren had given him a long time ago, knowing that Eames wanted nothing to do with his brother. He hit the call button and waited for Frank to answer. "Hello?"

Logan quickly evaluated the tone of his voice, relieved that he was either not stoned or he was coming down off a high. "Frank, this is Mike Logan."

"Mike! What can I do for you?"

"There's been an incident, and Alex asked me to give you a call."

"Alex, as in my brother's hot little partner?"

"Partner, girlfriend, call her what you will. Frank, Bobby was stabbed Friday night. They had to take him back to surgery today. He's in intensive care."

Frank was silent for a long time. Mike let him take whatever time he needed. Finally, Frank said, "Is he gonna be okay?"

"I think so. They say he's not out of the woods yet, but I think they're just being careful."

"What hospital?"

"St. Vincent's."

"Will she let me see him?"

"Yeah. She will."

"Will you be there tomorrow?"

"Not until afternoon."

"I'll be coming in from AC, so it'll be afternoon when I get there."

"Okay, then. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Thanks for the call."

"You bet. Bye."

He dropped the phone on the coffee table, yawned and kicked off his shoes. Too tired to move, he slept on the couch.

* * *

Logan had warned her that Frank was coming to visit his brother, so she was prepared, or so she thought. The man who showed up wasn't the one she expected. Clean-shaven and nicely dressed, Frank was also stone-cold sober when he stopped in the doorway of Goren's room.

His eyes scanned all the equipment before they stopped on his brother. After a minute, he looked at Eames. "I don't think I've ever seen him this...still."

"He's heavily medicated. They don't want him moving around."

"He hates being still."

"Yes, he does."

Frank's eyes shifted to the other side of the bed, where Logan sat. "Hi, Mike."

"Hey, Frank. You clean up nice."

Frank laughed, but there was little mirth behind it. He walked closer to the bed. "Does someone stay here at night?"

"I stay with him," Eames said.

"Good. He shouldn't be alone."

Logan waited for a few minutes before he said, "He had a visitor yesterday, Frank. It was your mother."

Frank started visibly. "She...came to see him?"

"She doesn't know who he is," Eames said. "All she knows is he's a police officer friend of her husband."

Frank looked worried. "How did Bobby handle it? He knew, didn't he?"

"He knew," Eames said. "And he didn't handle it well at all. He wasn't ready."

"I don't know if he ever will be. God, there's just so much...baggage...that comes with seeing her after all these years. She was really hard on him. I don't know how much he remembers, but the memories he does have...well, I can almost guarantee they're not good ones." He was agitated, very upset on his brother's behalf. "He's told you some of what went on, Mike. What about you, Alex? Has he ever told you about her?"

"Some, but he protects me a lot more than he should."

Frank nodded. "I can understand that. He's always had a gentle heart. That's how she hurt him so bad. He was sensitive, and I couldn't protect him from her, or from Dad. Maybe he won't agree, but the best thing they ever did for him was to leave. I know I wasn't perfect, but I was never afraid to show him how much I loved him. I took care of him, and I was never cruel to him. No one ever was when I had anything to say about it."

Eames heard the strength of Frank's conviction—and his love—in his voice, and for the first time, she honestly liked him. "He needed you," she said. "And you were there. That's more than I can say."

"What do you mean?"

Logan snorted. "She means that she's beating herself up because she got called away yesterday and she wasn't there when your mother showed up."

That news visibly upset Frank. "He had to face her alone?"

"No, not alone," Logan assured him. "Her husband was here, too, and he's gotten very attached to Bobby. Bobby thinks highly of him."

Eames looked miserable. "But I should have been here. Bobby or the colonel should have called me."

"You can't be everywhere," Frank assured her. "I learned that the hard way because I tried to be. Some battles he has to fight alone, and this is one of them. No one can fight these demons for him, not me, not you. He has to face them on his own."

Alex was impressed by Frank's intuitive intelligence. It was clear that he did care very deeply for his brother. She saw the pain in his eyes when he looked at the hospital bed and she saw the love in him when he talked about Bobby. "I know I can't fight his battles," she said. "Even if I could, it's not something he would ever let me do. But I want him to know that I'm there for him. His trust is hard-won. It took me a long time to earn and I don't want to do anything to jeopardize it."

"He thinks very highly of you," Frank said as he walked closer to the bed.

"He loves her," Logan said.

Frank's head snapped around and he looked at them. "What?"

Logan nodded. "Head over heels, buddy."

Frank turned and walked to her, seeing her in a new light. "That explains so much. I..." He trailed off as he walked around her, a look of wonder on his face. "I didn't think he had it in him. I thought that was another thing that Mom took with her when she left."

"What do you mean?" Eames asked, uncomfortable with his scrutiny.

"Bobby likes women. He likes sex and he can charm his way into almost any woman's bed. That's our father's legacy. But love? I've never known him to be in love. Not ever. He learned early to protect his heart, to never give it out, never let anyone in. You must be one hell of a woman, Alex, to coax that out of him. One hell of a special woman."

"Maybe he's that much of a special man," she retorted.

"Maybe he is. And when fate brought you together, eventually, everything just clicked." Frank straightened his shirt and looked down at his younger brother's face for a long time. "Bobby's tough," he said. "Tougher than I ever gave him credit for being. He never let them get him down, no matter how hard they tried." Reaching out, he rested his hand on Goren's arm. "No one tried harder to destroy him than Mom, intentional or not, but he wouldn't give her the satisfaction back then and he won't now."

Logan and Eames stood quietly by while Frank stood at his brother's bedside. Finally, Frank said, "Home run, little brother. Knock it out of the park."

He squeezed his brother's arm and stepped back. "Thanks for the call," he said, shaking Logan's hand. "Keep me informed. You know where to find me."

He looked at Eames, but turned away without saying anything. She called to him as he got to the door. "Thank you for coming by," she said.

His eyes shifted from her to his brother and back. "I always knew you didn't like me, and now I understand why. And that's okay, as long as you know, without any more doubt, that I love my brother."

She looked at Logan, who nodded. He had no doubt. Being with Frank and Bobby always made him wish that he had a brother. The brothers loved each other, and he was grateful that they included him.

"I know," she admitted. "And he loves you, too."

With a nod, Frank left the room.

Logan leaned back against the bed and watched Eames. "He's a good guy, Alex. After all, he raised Bobby."

She began to object. "He was twelve..."

"Come on, Alex...their mom was sick and their dad wasn't around. Who do you think really helped him with his homework and took care of him when he got the flu? Not his parents. His brother. Frank had a more profound positive influence on his childhood than anyone."

What Logan said made perfect sense, and she knew it was true. She sat lightly on the edge of the bed and caressed Goren's hair. She'd been wrong about his brother and all she wanted was for him to wake up so she could tell him.


	25. First Step on the Road to Recovery

Two days passed with no change in Goren's condition. In the early morning hours of the third day, Eames was awakened by the sound of an alarm near his bed. Two nurses rushed in to the room as she scrambled out of the chair in which she slept. She heard them try to calm him, and one of them ran from the room to retrieve a sedative.

Eames hurried to the bed, where Goren struggled against the remaining nurse as two orderlies hurried into the room. Refusing to be shoved out of the way, she talked to her partner, softly but firmly imploring him to calm down.

Somehow, she broke through the panic in his mind and he heard her. His struggles eased as he turned his head in her direction. "Eames..." he called hoarsely.

"I'm right here, Bobby. You have to calm down."

Although he calmed considerably, his breathing was still labored. "Eames," he murmured.

She grabbed his hand and moved in as close as she could while the orderlies moved away from the bed and the other nurse returned. His hand gripped hers tightly and he fought the panic that still tried to take over as the nurse injected the medicine into his IV.

Eames spoke to him softly and gently kissed his temple. "It's okay," she said. "Just stay calm. It's okay."

His grip eased as the sedative took effect and his eyes slid closed. His breathing evened out and the cardiac monitor stopped alarming. The nurses breathed a sigh of relief in unison and the orderlies left the room.

"What was that?" Eames demanded.

One of the nurses turned to the respirator, which continued to alarm, switching it off as the other nurse explained, "He started to come around before it was time for his next dose of sedative, and he panicked and pulled out the breathing tube, which is a normal reaction. We were going to try taking him off it in the morning, anyway. The doctor is on his way in now, and he'll make the final decision about the respirator, but Robert is doing well." She reached up and adjusted the settings on the monitor above the bed. "We'll watch him closely for the next twelve to twenty-four hours."

The other nurse pushed the respirator off to the side and said, "You did a good job calming him down. He responds well to you."

Eames nodded. "We've been partners for a long time, and we're close."

She couldn't quite bring herself to admit how much she loved him to strangers, but she remained by his bed, still holding his hand. The nurses left the room.

Ten minutes later, one of them returned with the doctor, who examined Goren, listening closely to his heart and lungs and carefully palpating his abdomen. He nodded. "I think he's ready to be off the respirator. His breathing is strong, even with the amount of sedative he was given." He looked at Eames. "He's getting stronger. There doesn't seem to be any more bleeding. He's going to be fine."

Although she'd guessed that was the case, she felt deeply relieved to hear the doctor say it. "Thank you," she said.

Once the doctor and nurse were gone from the room, she leaned down and softly kissed her partner. "I love you," she whispered.

She was not able to go back to sleep.

* * *

He woke again near sunset, his mind recalling his earlier panic but not processing the reason for it. She calmed him again, they medicated him again and he drifted back to sleep, not strong enough to fight the medication.

That pattern of waking, medicating and sleeping persisted for several days. The day after they discontinued the respirator, they transferred him to the post-surgical floor, assuring Eames that he was recovering. It was just going to take time.

She called Ross once a day to keep him in the loop, glad he was allowing her to work the case with Logan and Wheeler from the hospital. There was no further activity from the Triad and no other bodies had turned up, but the investigation was stalled. Logan and Wheeler located the video of a man bringing the body to the eleventh floor from the parking garage, but his face was never visible and they had no clues to his identity. He had apparently carried the body into the garage from the street and was very careful to keep himself hidden from the cameras. The autopsy was done, but they had no identification on the man.

Logan and Frank visited once or twice a day. Eames found out that Frank was staying at his brother's apartment, and she felt no disapproval. Knowing now what she hadn't known in the past, she was rid of her anger and dislike for Frank.

Sutter called her every morning, but he didn't return for a visit. His wife was still in town and he didn't want to cause her son any further distress by providing the means for her to harass him again. He was afraid her visit had contributed to his setback and he felt guilty for that, even though Eames assured him that was not the case.

* * *

Eames woke early Friday morning and went down to the cafeteria to grab a quick breakfast. When she returned to Goren's room, she was surprised to find Frank there. He looked rough, like he hadn't slept, and she suspected he was coming off a binge. "You're here early," she said as she sat down with her plate.

"How is he?"

"The same as yesterday."

Frank looked frustrated and he sat heavily in a nearby chair, scrubbing his hands over his face. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"What? Yeah, I'm okay. I just...I didn't sleep last night."

She started to ask, but decided she didn't want to know. She took a bite of her omelet, washing it down with a swallow of coffee. "Can I ask you something?" she said.

"Go ahead."

"Do you have any good memories of your mother?"

"Sure. Plenty of them. I was ten when she had her first break with reality and was diagnosed with schizophrenia. That was when we really lost her. She was never the same after that. She refused to take her medication, so her symptoms just got worse and worse. When she left, she was about done raising me, so I don't have any hard feelings about that, but..." He shook his head slowly and ran his hand over his curls. "I've never forgiven her for what she did to Bobby."

"She abused you, too, didn't she?"

He shrugged. "Some, yes, but I was bigger and I could take it. He was only seven, and he was little and scared. He didn't understand. Hell, at first, neither did I. Dad was no help. He started staying away more and when he was around, his abuse got worse. He didn't want to be bothered with us, especially when he had something better to do, which was most of the time."

"He was cruel?"

"A lot of the time he was, but he was a worse kind of cruel than Mom. Mom was sick; he wasn't."

She ate some more of her breakfast, offering him a bite which he refused. "Colonel Sutter is going to tell her about you and Bobby," she said.

"Why?"

She frowned. "What do you mean, why?"

"Just what I said. What good could it possibly serve to tell her about us now? There's no way she could ever make up for the last thirty-two years. Look what seeing her did to him. I mean, Bobby can make up his own mind, but I would just as soon she'd stayed missing. I...I want to protect him, but he's all grown up now and I can't protect him any more. I couldn't protect him back then, not like I wished I could. I took a lot of beatings so they wouldn't turn on him, but I couldn't stop them all the time. Mom used to lock him in a closet to 'protect' him, and sometimes it was hours before I could get him out of there. Once he was trapped in there for a whole night. I was sick over that, but I couldn't get the key from her. It was ten in the morning before she went to sleep and I could sneak it away from her." He shook his head. "I don't see what good it can do, especially for Bobby."

She couldn't argue with him about that, but she didn't really know what harm the visit had done because she hadn't spoken to him about it yet. "I can introduce you to the colonel."

Frank shook his head. "No, thanks. If Bobby insists, then maybe, but I'm not sure I want any part of it. Bobby has a much more tender heart than I do, and a more forgiving soul. I don't think I can ever forgive her for what she did to him. I'm pretty sure he's blocked out a lot of what happened back then, but I remember enough for both of us."

He got to his feet and walked to the bed, placing his hand on his sleeping brother's forehead. "I'm glad he has you. He deserves to be loved. The deck was stacked against him from the start, and he still turned out to be a good man. I don't know how, I don't know why, but he did."

"You should be proud of what you did for him."

Frank shook his head and turned to look at her. "No, not me. I'm not proud of anything I've done or become. But him...I'm damn proud of him. He does more good in a day than I do in a year. He's a hero and he protects the innocent, and no one can take that away from him."

He gave her a sad smile and he left without saying anything more. She looked at the rest of her breakfast, but she had no appetite, so she tossed it in the trash and finished her coffee.

* * *

Saturday afternoon marked a turning point for Goren. He woke in the late afternoon and seemed more coherent than he'd been all week. He looked around the room, but didn't see his partner, which bothered him.

"Eames," he whispered, followed by a cough and a groan.

She set aside the book she was reading and got up from the chair across the room, thrilled to hear his voice. "I'm right here, Bobby."

"Eames..."

He gathered her into a hug, holding her firmly against his chest. "I...I'm...sorry," he whispered.

"Sorry for what?" she asked, not really surprised that an apology would be the first real thing he said to her.

"I worried you."

She didn't answer immediately, not wanting to leave his arms. Finally, she pulled back, staying on the edge of the bed. "Okay, I'll give you that, but it wasn't your fault. It's all been taken care of, and you're going to get better now. But we do need to talk. I'm the one who needs to apologize to you."

His brow furrowed. His mind was fuzzy and he was having trouble focusing. "Why?"

"A couple of reasons. First, I wasn't here when you needed me."

His confusion increased. "I don't understand."

"When your mother showed up."

He took a few minutes to relate her apology to an event in his mind. It finally clicked as he remembered the visit. The memory of it triggered his anxiety. Eames rested her hand on his bare chest. "Bobby, relax. If you don't settle down, they'll come in here and sedate you."

He closed his eyes and concentrated on the sensation of her hand on his chest. When her fingers lightly moved in a caressing circle, he made a soft noise in the back of his throat and began to relax. His thoughts started to flow randomly. When he remembered why she'd been gone when his mother arrived, he opened his eyes, struggling to force away the sleepiness that blanketed his mind.

"The case..." he murmured, not wanting to discuss his mother.

Eames shook her head and touched his lips with her fingertips. "I need to apologize for one more thing."

"You don't have to apologize to me about anything, Alex."

"Yes, I do. This is one apology I absolutely owe you. I was wrong about your brother, and now I realize how much I hurt you by judging him harshly and not giving him a fair chance."

He didn't quite know what to make of that apology, so he didn't respond. His silence made her nervous, so she kept talking. "I judged him without knowing all the facts, without realizing he didn't have all the facts about me, either."

Although discussing private matters—even with her—made him nervous, she'd piqued his curiosity, which was stronger than his reluctance. Bracing himself for the pain he knew was coming, he pushed himself higher in the bed. She started to withdraw, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her closer. "Explain," he insisted. "I-I don't know what you mean."

She should have known he wouldn't just accept her apology and let it go. As she tried to gather her thoughts and figure out how best to explain what she meant, she absently stroked his chest and abdomen in random, abstract patterns. Every time she drew her fingers along his waist, his thoughts fragmented and he found it harder and harder to refocus.

He reached out to her and lightly touched the tip of one breast with an index finger. She gasped softly and looked into his eyes. "Oh, Bobby," she whispered softly, leaning in to kiss him.

He slid his arms around her and kissed her deeply. When she reluctantly pulled away, he groaned a soft protest, but he let her withdraw, knowing how sensitive she was about being walked in on, which he found endlessly amusing. He moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue, reinforcing his control with reluctance as he fought his pain and tried to refocus his thoughts. The case, his mother, his brother, his...his lover... His thoughts went off on a tangent for which he wasn't ready, and he attempted to steer them another way. "Please," he said softly. "Explain."

He seemed so much stronger, although he still battled the effects of the powerful medicine they'd been giving him. That he was able to successfully fight it showed her he was strong enough to discuss his brother, if not his mother.

She grasped his hand, entwining her fingers with his. He looked at her expectantly, curious. "Mike called Frank and he came by. I found out that he visits you quite regularly."

He shrugged. "I go down to see him, too. Just not as often."

"Why not?"

He averted his eyes from hers when he answered, "Uh, too much...temptation. Here at home, my control is...better."

"What kind of temptation?"

"Have you ever been to Atlantic City?"

"Of course, but you don't have a problem with gambling."

"No, and I don't want one. But gambling isn't the only temptation. After I got out of the Army, I visited him for a weekend." The look in his eyes grew distant. "I ended up staying four days, and it got kind of...uh, wild, out of control. I got a taste—well, more than a taste—of all Frank's addictions that weekend, and I wasn't put off by any of them. After that, I knew I had to be careful, so Frank usually makes the trip up here or we meet somewhere in between."

She wanted details, but decided that was a conversation for another time. "Logan said Frank doesn't bring out the drugs when he visits."

He became more uncomfortable and began to fidget. "He doesn't, not usually. Since I became a cop, he respects that. When I...When I worked narcotics, he helped me out from time to time when I was undercover, but other than that, he keeps his drugs well away from me most of the time."

"Doesn't he trust you?"

"He does. I don't trust me, and he doesn't want me in trouble. We've been through enough of that."

She was quiet for a minute, still gently rubbing his chest and stomach, carefully avoiding the bandage and bruising under his ribs. "So what happened the few times I know about?"

He shrugged and offered her a small smile. "We got carried away. I, uhm, I wasn't careful enough."

She returned his smile and laid a hand on his cheek. "You never told me he visits as often as he does."

"You wouldn't have approved."

"What did that matter? We were just partners, Bobby. You never needed my approval for anything."

"I know," he replied, looking away again. "But...there came a time when it did matter, what you thought. I didn't need your approval, but I wanted it. So I...avoided telling you anything that I thought you wouldn't like, and you didn't like Frank."

"I only knew of five or six times he came to town, and each time you ended up in trouble of some kind. That made me believe that Frank only cared about carrying on with his own misbehavior and not what happened to you."

He looked down at her hand, following it with his eyes as she traced a line straight down his belly. He sighed softly. "That's not true."

"I know that now. Frank loves you very much."

He nodded and she drew her hand back up, lightly touching his chin. He looked at her and reached out to touch her face. Gently, he guided her to him, pulling her against him as he kissed her. She withdrew slowly, not wanting to break the tender contact, but if it continued, she knew that her body would demand more and she had no other viable options with him laid up. He was likely to end up in the same state, and she didn't want that. He was uncomfortable enough dealing with the pain in his side—and in his psyche.

"Rest, Bobby," she said softly. "We have a lot to talk about, but it needs to wait until you're stronger. I just wanted you to know I made peace with your brother."

"I...I'm glad. I appreciate that you made the effort. Frank has always been good to me."

She nodded and gave him another kiss, holding onto his hand until he drifted back to sleep.


	26. More Questions Than Answers

Frank and Logan showed up together late the next morning. Goren was awake, trying to manage jello and broth, neither of which he particularly liked. The faces of both men lit up when they saw him sitting up, scowling at his food.

Goren looked up, grinned at them, and pushed aside his tray. Logan looked around. "Where's Alex?"

"She went to get some lunch. She doesn't want to eat in front of me since I'm not allowed to eat."

Frank motioned at his tray. "What do you call that?"

"That's not food."

Frank came around the bed, embraced his brother and pulled the tray back in front of him. "Eat, little brother. You won't get better if you don't."

Goren frowned, but he finished his food. Frank and Logan sat down. Goren pointed his spoon at Frank. "Did Alex tell you what happened, uh, last week, apparently? I've lost a few days lately."

"About Mom? Yeah, she told me."

"What do you think?"

Frank was quiet for a minute. "First of all, I'm furious that she did that."

"Did what?"

"Popped in to visit before you were ready to deal with it."

"She doesn't know who I am. She just thinks I'm someone her husband knows."

"Who is that guy?"

"Colonel Sutter? He's been married to her for the last thirty years, and he seems to have taken very good care of her. He obviously loves her. They have two children together."

Frank tried not to show his reaction to that information. "And how did you come to meet him?"

"He's involved peripherally in a case we're investigating. Two people from one of his shops were killed, uh, two weeks ago, I think."

He looked at Logan for confirmation. Logan nodded, then added, "But it's three people from two shops now."

"What?"

Logan held up both hands. "Calm down or Alex will eat me for lunch and your brother for dessert. Another body turned up, and we just ID'ed him. Alex doesn't even know yet. I got the call this morning."

"It was someone from one of the Colonel's shops?"

"Yeah. The one in Soho."

"The vic..."

"Male, Asian, found draped across your desks in the squad room."

"What?"

Eames chose that minute to return, much to Logan's dismay and Frank's amusement. Her sharp eyes quickly took in the three men before focusing on Logan. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing," he answered innocently.

Her eyes shifted to Goren, who had settled back in his bed, although it was too late to hide from her. "What's going on?" she demanded.

He shook his head. "Nothing. I finished my, uh, lunch."

"And?"

Logan couldn't help grinning. "We were just discussing the case."

Goren leaned forward again. "Did you show the picture of the last victim to the colonel?"

"No, why?" Eames answered.

Logan replied, "Because then we would have had our ID last week."

"What are you talking about?"

"I got a call this morning. We finally got an ID on the guy. Name's Ping. George Ping. Works for Sutter at his store in Soho. Wheeler and I were planning to stop in and talk to the colonel this afternoon."

"Let me do it," Goren said.

"Do what?" Eames asked, although she knew.

"Let me talk to him."

"You can't go anywhere yet," Logan said.

"The colonel will come here."

"That worked out so well the last time he visited," Logan replied.

Goren waved a hand in the air. "It'll be fine."

Eames glared at him. "The colonel's wife still hasn't returned to the Hamptons. Until she does, he's reluctant to return to see you."

"And so he should be," Frank said.

"It wasn't his fault," Goren protested.

Eames nodded. "We know that, but there's a strong possibility she will follow him again if he tries to come to visit you."

"What makes you say that?"

"He told me as much. He's been calling to check on you but he said he doesn't dare come to visit right now. He's trying to protect you."

Frank nodded his head. "He's right to do that, Bobby. I don't think seeing Mom is the best thing for you. I just don't see any good coming out of it."

"I don't want anything from her," Goren argued. "All I want is to know why. Just the answer to that one simple question: why."

"It may not be as simple as you think. Mom was never a simple, straight-forward person. She was direct, brutally so sometimes, but not necessarily up-front or honest, especially when she didn't want to take responsibility for something. It was always someone else's fault, never hers."

"I want to hear it from her," Goren replied stubbornly.

Frank shook his head. "Haven't I always done right by you? You've always trusted me. You trust them," he indicated Eames and Logan. "Listen to us. Seeing her may do you more harm than good."

Goren's eyes narrowed and he jutted out his chin. "Let me decide that for myself."

Frank threw his hands up in the air and got up from the chair. He looked at Eames. "There's no talking to him when he gets like this. Give me a call if there's anything I can do." He shifted his gaze to his brother and said, "I won't watch you do this to yourself. Do whatever it is you're gonna do, Bobby. I washed my hands of her thirty years ago and I don't want any part of this."

He turned and left the room. Goren hit his hand against the tray table, angry. "Calm down," Eames said. "Frank is entitled to his opinion and he's made his decision. I think it's the right one, but you're free to make your own choice." She retrieved his phone and dropped it in his lap. "You know the colonel's number. Call him if you want."

Goren looked at the phone, then at her."Do you understand why I have to do this?"

"I do, and I don't. I understand you, the way you are, and I know you can't just let it go. But I happen to agree with Frank and I don't see how any good can come of this. I hate to see you hurt."

He couldn't explain why it meant so much to him to confront his mother, and even if he could, he wasn't sure he would. "If I...If I see her...will you stay?"

"If I don't will you give it up?"

"N-No. I can't."

She sighed, frustrated. "I don't agree, but I will stay. I won't abandon you." Her voice got softer and she touched his hand. "I'll never let you down."

He closed his hand around hers and pulled her to him, holding her against his chest. Logan coughed and stood up. "As much as I love all this mushy stuff, I'll toss in my two cents and get it over with. I think they're right, Bobby. I think that all she has to offer you is more pain. But, you're gonna do whatever you feel you have to do, and, whatever you decide, I'm here for you, if you need me."

"Thank you, Mike," Goren said, still holding Eames against him.

"Now," Logan added, moving to the windowsill, where he picked up a manila folder and returned to the bedside. "Did you ask him about the flower?" he asked Eames.

She shook her head as she pulled away from Goren. "I never had the chance."

"What flower?" Goren asked, grateful to Logan for changing the subject.

Logan opened the folder and pulled out a picture, which he handed to Goren. "This flower was laid on the victim's chest after he was killed."

Goren studied the picture. "It-It's a white lotus."

"What does it mean?" Eames asked.

"Uhm, well, in Buddhism, it symbolizes mental and spiritual perfection. The, uh, the lotus plant grows out of murky water to create a bloom of perfect beauty. It symbolizes rebirth and the journey from this world of suffering to one of enlightenment and spiritual purity, to becoming one with the Buddha. It's also been adopted by Chinese revolutionaries throughout time, including the Triad, the Chinese mob."

"So they left us a calling card this time," Logan said.

"How considerate," Eames muttered. "But it doesn't tell us who killed our victims or why they did it."

Lost in thought, Goren didn't respond to either of them. He looked again at the picture, then asked, "Where was this victim found?"

"In the squad room, stretched out across our desks," Eames answered as Logan pulled out the crime scene photos and handed them over.

As he studied each picture, Goren muttered, "It's personal now."

"What does that mean?" Eames asked.

"I'm not sure, but someone wants us to know that they know we're involved. And they wanted to send us a message, maybe to back off?"

"Fat chance," Eames replied.

Goren smiled at her. He shared her sentiment. There was no way they were going to back off now.

* * *

Goren's dinner consisted of more jello and broth, plus a cup of coffee without creamer. "This just gets better and better," he complained.

"It's only temporary. Clara will be back tomorrow and she promised to do what she could to move you to full liquids. Then you can have cream in your coffee."

He scowled at her amusement. "It's not funny," he complained, waving his hand at his tray in annoyance. "This is not worth eating."

"It will be even worse for you if you eat something your body isn't ready to handle, like pastrami and mustard or chili..."

"You're cruel, Eames."

She laughed and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "It will only take a couple of days to get you back to a full diet. Be patient. You're getting better quickly."

"There is one thing I want more than food," he said with a gleam in his eye.

"What's that?" she asked, trying not to smile.

He looked her over with an expression that would have earned any other man a slap across the face. A flush crept up to her cheeks and the smile broke through. He held out his hand, which she took. He pulled her into his arms and whispered into her ear, "You."

That one word and the tone with which it was delivered sent a shiver up her spine. Correctly interpreting the tremor he felt in her body, he shifted her in his arms to kiss her. She surrendered to him.

When she withdrew, she perched herself on the edge of the bed, her hand resting in his. Needing to refocus his mind and calm his body, he said, "I talked to the colonel while you were at dinner."

She had hoped he would just let it go and let Logan talk to Sutter, but she knew he wouldn't. "What did he say?"

"He's going to come by around eight."

"Is he bringing her?"

"No, but he warned me that she could show up. She, uhm, she hasn't settled down yet following her hospitalization and she's still paranoid. The doctors are adjusting her medication."

"Bobby, do you realize that you're playing with fire? It didn't go well for you the last time she turned up. What makes you think this time will be any better?"

"I'm better prepared this time, Alex. She's not going to take me by surprise. And I don't have the distraction of a quickly deteriorating physical condition to deal with now."

She remained skeptical. "Before you give her a second chance to destroy you," she said. "Tell me what she did that had you so upset last week."

He shrugged and looked at her hand, joined with his in his lap. "Sh-she was here," he said. "I didn't expect her, and I felt awful, and..."

"And it was more than just her being here. I know you, Bobby. She didn't know who you were, but she said or did something to upset you. Tell me what she did."

He was apprehensive about discussing the encounter with his mother, and his anxiety level increased as he thought about it. He didn't remember all of it, his memory impaired by the blood loss in his abdomen, but he remembered enough of it to know he didn't really want to talk about it. But Eames did, and that unsettled him. She cared about him, he reminded himself, which was why she wanted to discuss it. He had no doubt that she could tell how upset he was when she arrived at the end of his mother's visit. He also knew that, while discussing what happened was going to be upsetting for him, not discussing it would be upsetting for her.

He shifted restlessly, and she reached out to cup his cheek with her palm. "Talk to me," she encouraged.

He paused, then answered, "When you're near me, I feel grounded. Your presence calms me and I'm better able to focus. She had the opposite effect on me. I...remembered, uh, I remembered...more...more of the past than I had before. It was very...unsettling for me. But the worst of it all, I guess, what upset me the most, was her...assessment of my life."

Eames frowned. "What right does she have to offer any kind of assessment of your life?"

He shrugged. "I guess she felt comfortable enough to do it."

"What did she say?"

He paused, reluctant to put his memory into words. Eames squeezed his hand, offering silent encouragement. Softly, he went on, "When I told her that I don't have a wife or children...she just...she said my life has been a waste."

Eames was unable to hide her reaction to the unfair criticism. "She said _what_? Bobby, you can't believe that. Who is she to make any kind of assessment of your life, especially after what she did to you? Your life has not been wasted."

"Alex...it was an objective opinion from someone who doesn't know me."

"Objective, my ass. It was her opinion, and, I'm sorry, but her opinion doesn't matter. She lost the right to criticize any part of your life when she stepped out of it and abandoned you."

He shook his head and looked away again, and she got mad. "Who the hell is she that her opinion matters so damn much? She walked out on you when you were twelve and she then waltzes back in to your life after more than three decades and you place more stock in her uninformed opinion than you do in the opinion of someone who knows you so well? She doesn't know you, dammit! She doesn't know Maggie Coulter or Jason and Natalia Rankin or Gwen Chapel. I've been watching you find justice for victims and their families for almost seven years. How many times have you talked your way out of a situation while looking down the barrel of a loaded weapon to save innocent lives? And where were you when the towers fell, Bobby? You saved lives that day. Our job is a sacred trust and I've never known a cop who takes that trust more seriously than you do. You're one of those rare men who run toward danger when everyone else is running the other way, and you never think twice about it. Don't you dare tell me your life has been a waste." She leaned forward, bringing herself closer to him, and he swore he could feel the heat from her anger. "Don't you dare go all George Bailey on me, damn you."

He'd turned his eyes back toward her halfway through her rant and now he studied her face. Her face was flushed and her chest rose and fell with each angry breath she took. His only coherent thought was that she was absolutely beautiful when she was angry. Softly, he said, "I love you, Alex."

"I love you, too, you stubborn ox. And I will defend you with my dying breath to anyone, even yourself. Do you understand me?"

"Completely." He pushed her hair back off her face, his eyes glowing. "You-You're...beautiful when you're pissed."

She poked him in his uninjured side and his face relaxed into a genuine smile. Her scowl faded. "I don't suggest you make a habit of making me mad. Find something else that makes me as beautiful as you think my anger does."

"Oh, I know something else, but right now, I can't do that. I can make you mad, though."

She laughed lightly and leaned in to give him another kiss. Then she pressed her forehead against his. After a minute, she asked, "What are you going to do if your mother shows up?"

"I'm gonna piss off a lot more people."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I'm going to tell her who I am."

She pulled back and looked at him with apprehension. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"I don't know if it's a good thing, but it's the right thing."

"I don't know about that."

"If you don't want to stay..."

"No, I'll stay. You need me to stay."

"I need you, period."

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at him. "You always know the right thing to say."

"Not always, but eventually, I get there."

She looked at the time, then leaned in to kiss him again. "Sutter is coming at 8?"

He nodded. "And he's career military, so he'll be punctual."

She retrieved his binder from the windowsill where she'd set it when she took it away from him earlier and insisted he rest for a while. Despite his objections, he'd slept for nearly two hours. "You'd better get ready."

He flipped open his binder and they began to review the most recent developments in their case.

* * *

**A/N: For those who don't know, George Bailey is the central character of the beloved holiday movie _It's A Wonderful Life_. When George believes that his life is of no consequence and that everyone would be better off without him, an angel named Clarence (who has not yet earned his wings), shows him exactly what his world would be like if he had never been born.**

**In answer to Dee, who asked me about the Goren/Logan friendship: I can't answer you directly because you signed in as a guest, so I will answer you here. The world is full of unlikely friendships, but I don't think that Goren and Logan are so different they would not be friends. Aside from their common abusive childhoods, neither of them is embraced by the department. The brass doesn't like them and neither do most of their comrades, although I think Logan is better tolerated than Goren is. They are mavericks, neither of whom strictly follows the rulebook. They both have issues with anger and authority, though Logan's anger is more explosive while Goren's tends to simmer until it boils over. Goren has a much calmer personality than Logan, while Logan is more gregarious. I believe that Logan draws Goren out of his shell while Goren calms Logan down. It's a mutually beneficial, symbiotic friendship. In _Stress Position_, Logan doesn't care much for the Major Case detectives, but after Goren talks them out of a lethal situation and saves their lives, his perception changes, and I believe that was the beginning of their friendship. I have no problem seeing their friendship develop into a close one, and it's among the things I like best in many of my stories. I wrote a post ep for _Stress Position_ depicting the beginning of their friendship called _What Might Have Been_. A number of my other stories also portray Goren and Logan as friends and I enjoy writing them as such.**


	27. Confrontation

Just before eight, the door to Goren's room opened, but it wasn't Sutter who came into the room. It was Logan, and he looked shaken. Goren frowned. "What's wrong?"

Eames closed the folder that was open between them as Logan sat down and rubbed his hands together. "I went home tonight...and someone had been there. Someone went through my place when I wasn't home. Wheeler's, too."

Goren sat up straighter. "Did you talk to my brother?"

Logan nodded. "Yeah. They were there, too, while Frank was out. Ross and I went over to Eames' place. Same story. They're looking for something. Any idea what it could be?"

Eames shook her head, but Goren didn't answer. He stared at a point across the room, but his eyes focused beyond the wall. He grabbed the file folder and flipped it open. "I wasn't a target," he muttered, more to himself than to Logan and Eames. "They weren't after me. I wasn't supposed to engage Quon Li, and when I did, he had no choice but to fight back."

Logan frowned. "He was an assassin. Why would he turn up at your place in the middle of the night if he wasn't planning to kill you?"

"That wasn't what he was sent to do. He had no reason to kill me. He didn't expect me to wake up in the middle of the night."

"He didn't know you," Eames commented.

A brief smile flashed across his face. "He was after something else. Was there any evidence our desks were searched when they dropped off the body?"

Logan nodded. "Yeah, they were searched, but Eames said nothing was taken. That was a footnote in the investigation."

"Move it up on the list. They're looking for something, but they're not after us. That's why they searched when no one was home after what happened with me. I need to talk to the colonel."

Eames looked at the time. "It's five of. He'll be here any minute."

"Want to fill in the blanks while we wait?" Logan asked.

"I don't know what to fill them with yet, but I have a suspicion they're looking for something that Annie and Morris brought back from their trip to Asia."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. That's why I have to talk to the colonel. I need to see a list of everything they brought back or had shipped in. We still have a lot of questions with no answers, and I don't like that. They obviously tortured Morris to find what they're looking for, but he didn't have the information they wanted. I don't know why they killed Annie since they obviously didn't talk to her that night and I don't know what happened to the kid she was with when they killed her. Have we found out who he is?"

Eames nodded. "Who he is, yes. What happened to him, no. His name is Bao Jing Zhao."

"What?"

"He's Zhao's youngest son. We haven't had a chance to talk to the Secretary-General again, and we haven't been able to find his son. It's been a difficult week."

Goren frowned. "Don't wait for me to talk to Zhao. Ross would probably prefer you didn't. You and Wheeler should talk to him. Maybe he won't be as defensive with two women."

"Okay, we'll make an appointment to see him. Where does George Ping fit in?"

"That's another good question, and I think Colonel Sutter may have the answer."

As if on cue, the door opened and Sutter put his head into the room. "Is this a good time?" he asked.

Goren smiled at him. "Come in, Colonel."

Sutter approached the bed and held out his hand, which Goren shook. The colonel greeted Eames and Logan before turning his attention back to Goren. "How are you feeling, my boy?"

"Good. I'll feel a lot better when they let me eat real food."

"Not a fan of that liquid diet, huh?"

"Not really."

"Too bad beer isn't on the menu," Logan commented.

"That might make the rest of it tolerable. I like beer a lot more than Jell-o." He grew more serious when Eames frowned at him. "I, uh, I'm kidding."

But Eames knew by the way his eyes darted to Logan that he was at least partly serious, and she couldn't blame him. Being in the hospital was wearing on him. He was impatient and starting to get grouchy about it. She was pleased that he was improving so quickly, but she was worried he was going to try to do too much too soon and cause himself some kind of setback.

Goren looked at the colonel, knowing it was time to change the subject. "I, uh, I have a couple of questions for you, sir, if you don't mind."

"Ask away."

Eames looked at Logan and they exchanged a grin. Goren was deferential and respectful to Sutter in a way neither of them had seen before. Logan assumed it was a fallback to his military days, but Eames sensed it was something more.

Goren continued, "We need a complete list of everything Morris and Annie brought back or had shipped back from their trip to Southeast Asia. We also need all the information you have on the items. Can you get that for us?"

"I'll have it compiled tomorrow and bring it up to you."

"And we need to ask you about George Ping."

"George? What about him?"

"He hasn't been at work, has he?"

"No. He's on vacation."

Eames rested her hands on the bed's side rail. "Looks like George is taking a permanent vacation."

Sutter's eyebrows raised. "No, not another one..."

Goren nodded. "He was found last week, but we were delayed in his identification."

"What happened to him?"

"Same thing that happened to Morris Franklin," Logan answered.

Goren rubbed the back of his neck. "What connection did George have to Morris and Annie or to their recent trip?"

"He went with them, helped them to procure several items."

"Did anyone else go along or is anyone else involved in any way?"

"No, no one else went with them...but there were two other employees who helped them catalogue the items when they got back. Marty Chen worked on the items they physically brought back and Crystal Havermeier worked on the items that were shipped."

"Havermeier?" Logan asked.

Sutter smiled. "Her maiden name is Chang. She works with the imports, helps Annie authenticate the providence of everything that we purchase." His smile faded quickly and he looked sad. "That is, she helped Annie."

Goren was getting agitated. "Have Marty and Crystal been at work during the last week?"

"Yes, although today was Marty's day off...why?"

"Do you have their phone numbers?"

Sutter pulled out his phone and wrote down the numbers, which Logan took as he pulled out his own phone. "I'm on it," he said.

"Just call Marty," Goren said and Logan nodded.

"What's going on?" Sutter demanded.

"Call Crystal and make sure she's okay," Goren insisted. "Ask her if anyone has broken into her home or office, or if she's noticed anything unusual since Annie returned from Asia."

The energy in the room was palpable and Goren was at the center of it. Eames leaned close to her partner while the two men talked on their phones. "What's going through that amazing mind of yours, Bobby?"

"About a thousand different things. I need to know what was imported. One of those items...that's what the Triad is after. They tried to get Annie and Morris to import something for them. When they wouldn't take the items that were offered, the mob found another way to fit whatever it was into their cargo. Now they are desperate to recover it, and I'm betting they can't locate it. So they're panicking, especially since the murders drew us in."

Sutter put his phone away as Eames withdrew from the private conversation. "Crystal is fine," he said. "She said she found someone in her office when she got back from lunch one day last week, but she didn't think much of it."

"Was anything missing from her office?"

"Not that she noticed. She said it looked like the man had gone through her desk, but everything seemed to be there."

"I really need that inventory, colonel," Goren said.

"I'll get it for you tomorrow," Sutter promised.

Worked up about a possible break in the case, Goren was having trouble calming down. "Uh...we, we need to put protective details on Crystal and Marty. I don't want them to turn up like Morris and George."

"We'll need their home addresses," Logan said.

Sutter pulled out his phone and looked up a file. Then he withdrew a notepad and pen, wrote down the two addresses and tore off the page to hand to Logan. "I'll take care of it," Logan said as he moved over to the windows to call Ross.

Goren felt better about George and Crystal, but he was still worked up. Sutter pulled up a chair and tried to steer the conversation away from the case, in the hope of calming him. Logan pulled up a chair beside him a couple of minutes later. "Done," he said.

Then he helped Sutter keep the conversation away from the case. Goren began to settle, leaning back against his pillows. Eames stood near the bed, resting her hand on his arm, which was more settling for him than the conversation.

More than an hour passed before Sutter rose from his chair. "You're in pain, son," he observed, noting that Goren's pain level had been steadily increasing. "Take some medication so you can sleep and I will bring you that inventory information tomorrow as soon as I have it."

"Thank you, sir," Goren answered.

Before Sutter could say any more, the door opened and his wife came into the room. Visibly angry, she shook her finger at Sutter. "Here you are! You were going to the store for milk and bread!"

Sutter tensed and groaned, wondering how much longer her paranoia was going to last. Usually, it began to dissipate by this time. "No, honey. I told you I would stop for milk and bread on my way home."

Logan got to his feet but Eames stayed at her partner's side. Logan stepped to the foot of the bed, as though to protect his friend. The movement caught Frankie's attention and she moved toward the bed, studying Goren as she drew closer. "You look better," she said.

"I'm feeling better, thank you."

Her sharp eyes shifted to Eames and Logan, but she said nothing, looking back at Goren. "Terry told me you are investigating Annie and Morris' deaths."

"That's right."

"I thought they died in a car accident."

"Foul play is suspected," he said.

"Foul play? Who would want to hurt them?"

"That's for us to find out, Mrs. Sutter," Eames said.

Frankie looked at her, then at Logan. "Who are you?" she demanded.

Eames bristled at her tone, which indicated the woman thought they didn't belong there. Logan answered before Eames could. "We're friends and colleagues of Bobby's. My name's Mike Logan. This is Alex Eames."

She reacted a little to his use of the name Bobby to refer to Goren. "Hmpf," she said. "Well, at least you have friends since you have no family."

Goren tensed at her gibe, and Eames tightened her grip on his arm. Sutter touched his wife's elbow, speaking gently. "Come on, Frankie. It's getting late and Robert is sill recovering."

"You're here."

"And I was just leaving."

"What about them?"

"That's none of our business. Come on."

Eames began to relax as the woman stopped arguing and started toward the door with her husband. Logan moved the chairs back near the window. Both of them felt they'd dodged a bullet, until Goren spoke. "Mrs. Sutter."

Frankie turned as Eames softly said, "Bobby, no."

But Goren ignored her. "I, uhm...my name...my name is Robert...Goren."

Sutter's eyes widened with surprise as everyone waited for his wife's reaction. She stared at Goren for a long time before she moved toward him. Her face had lost some of its color. "It can't be," she said. "You can't be..."

She stopped beside him, on the opposite side of the bed from Eames and Logan. The room was filled with tension. Goren's expression was unreadable. "What?" he said, his tone hard. "I can't be what, Mrs. Sutter?"

"I was married, long ago, to a man named Goren, William Goren. He was never a good husband, not like Terrance. We were married for seventeen years when he left me, and we had two sons, Frank and Robert, but they died. They died in a house fire."

Goren's expression grew hard, matching his tone. "There was no fire. You just...left. I came home from school one afternoon and you were gone. You never came back."

She shook her head. "No...No...that's not true."

Sutter approached her. "Frankie..."

She spun toward him. "He's a liar," she said, her voice shrill. "I'm a good mother!"

"Of course you are, but he's not lying."

She turned back toward Goren. "You can't be my Bobby. He was just...He wasn't even a teenager, the last time I saw him."

"Do you even remember how old I was? It was thirty-three years ago, and I was twelve. I've grown up, made something of myself, even though the odds were against me."

"What about Frank? How is Frank?"

"Frank did your job," he said, unable to hide his anger and agitation any longer. "He kept our situation hidden from the authorities and he raised me. You _left_ and that took its toll on both of us."

"Frank..." she said softly, remembering. "He was such a good boy, always getting good grades and making me proud."

"And what about Bobby?" Eames demanded, unable to keep quiet any longer.

"Bobby? Bobby was always causing trouble, never working to his potential."

"Is that all you remember?" Goren asked.

Although there were tears rolling down her cheeks, she waved her hands in agitation. "What do you expect from me? I'm an old woman and that was a very long time ago."

"Yeah, it was. A lifetime ago." He paused, then asked the one question for which only she had the answer. "Why? Why did you leave us?"

"The fire..."

"Don't give me any crap!" he shouted, rage getting the better of him. "There was no damn fire! You _left_ and I want to know why! You _owe_ me at least that!"

The cardiac monitor to which he was still attached began to alarm. "Bobby," Eames said softly, moving her hand to his shoulder.

He started to yank away from her, but something sliced through the rage that shrouded his mind. He let her hand remain where it was.

Frankie shook her head. "I couldn't take you with me," she said as the door opened and a nurse hurried into the room. "There was no place for you."

"I'm sorry," the nurse said as she crossed the room. "You're all going to have to leave."

Goren ignored her as she injected the contents of a syringe into his IV line. "No place?" he said with pain as the medicine began to fog his head.

"How could I ask Terrance to take in a boy like you?" she asked.

Sutter looked shocked. "How could you think I wouldn't? I could have made a difference in his childhood! And then or now, I would be proud to call him my son!"

Goren laid back against the pillows as the medicine calmed him. "Do—Do you mean that?" he asked as the room started to spin. He had grabbed Eames' free hand and held onto it tightly.

"I absolutely do," Sutter said.

His vision began to blur. "Eames?" he murmured.

"I'm right here, Bobby," she assured him.

"Yes? He said yes?"

"He said yes," she confirmed.

"She...She...robbed us of a real father..."

He couldn't fight it any more and his eyes closed. The monitor, which beeped to the cadence of his heart, settled into a steady, regular, one-beat-per-second pattern. Eames looked at Sutter. "I hope you meant that, colonel."

"I never say anything I don't mean," he answered.

She turned to the colonel's wife. "You'll never know the damage you did to him and his brother, and that's something you can never fix."

Sutter tugged on his wife's arm. "Come on, Frankie. You've done enough for today."

"Me? He's the one who started it!"

"That's not the point," he said. "We need to go home now."

"No! I need to...He needs to...to forgive me."

In the corner of the room, Logan stifled a laugh of disbelief. Her attention turned on him. He shook his head. "You're joking, right?"

"Mrs. Sutter," Eames said before she could lash out at Logan. "That's something between you and your sons, but I wouldn't hold out much hope for that from either of them. What you did was unforgivable."

"You weren't there," Frankie responded hotly. "You didn't have to talk to the principal because he was fighting again or to his teachers because he was fooling around in class. You didn't smell the alcohol on his breath or the pot on his clothes when he came home after his curfew! You don't know how hard it was for me to raise two boys all on my own."

"Maybe not, but I do know that I would never have left my sons as long as there was a breath left in my body."

Sutter tugged on his wife's arm again. "Frankie, let's go, now."

There was no doubt from the colonel's tone that he meant business. He was not a man accustomed to being disobeyed. Without another word, she went with him.

Once they were gone, Eames and Logan relaxed. The room was silent until Logan said, "That went well."

Eames didn't answer. She still held onto Goren's hand and brushed her other hand over his hair. Tomorrow, she had a feeling, was going to be a rough day.


	28. Seeking Sanctuary

Eames didn't sleep well. She kept waking to check on her partner, who remained deeply sleeping under the influence of the sedative his nurse had given him. She couldn't help replaying his encounter with his mother in her head, and she was worried. It was that worry that prevented her from sleeping. What would morning bring when he woke from the medication and remembered what his mother had said to him? She knew he blamed himself because his mother left, and Eames had tried to allay that guilt. After all, how could a mother lay such blame on a young child's shoulders? _There was no place for you. __How could I ask Terrance to take in a boy like you?_ No place in her life for the sons she brought into the world? Frankie placed the blame for her departure squarely on shoulders already heavy with the weight of the world. How would he hold up under yet another burden?

At four in the morning, her phone lit up with a text message from Logan: _You sleeping?_

_No_, she texted back.

_Can we talk?_

She called him.

"Hi, sweetheart," he said when he answered her call.

She was accustomed to his use of the term 'sweetheart' to address her and she no longer minded it. He'd made a couple of insincere attempts to hit on her when he first joined the squad, while he was attempting to feel his way as a Major Case detective. She found out much later that those episodes of flirting were teasing attempts to get her partner to open his eyes to his true feelings for her, which Logan was somehow able to see long before she was. Once she realized he had become friends with Goren, she accepted his almost flirty manner with the good spirit in which it was offered.

"What are you doing up at this hour?" she asked.

"You mean besides not sleeping?"

"Why are you not sleeping, Mike?"

"I keep replaying that scene with Sutter's wife in my head."

"Me, too."

"How is he?"

"Still out cold."

Logan let out a heavy sigh. "What do you think, Alex?"

"I think this is going to be incredibly difficult for him. I mean, she all but admitted that he was the reason she abandoned him and Frank. Have you talked to Frank?"

"Yeah. He's pissed as hell. He's going to stop by sometime in the morning. I warned him not to resort to 'I told ya so'. Bobby's having a hard enough time. He did what he had to do, whether the rest of us agree with it or not, and it went badly, which I think we all expected, including him."

"I think that on some level, he was hoping it would play out differently. So was I." She paused. "Did you see the colonel's reaction?"

"I thought he was going to pop a vein, he was so mad. He didn't expect Bobby to pull that, but her reaction made him see red. I think Sutter knows how deeply her words wounded him."

The thought of Sutter angry made her uneasy, though she wasn't sure why. "Do you think he's going to lecture Bobby?"

"No. I don't think he's going to address that at all. But expect him early. I think he'll want to check up on Bobby to make sure he's okay."

She was quiet for a minute as she watched her partner sleep. "Do you think she'll come back?"

"God, I hope not, but I don't think anyone will be able to stop her. She has absolutely no consideration for Bobby and his feelings."

"She's sick, Mike. It's not entirely her fault."

"You think that was her illness, the way she lashed out at him?"

"Part of it. At least, that's what I'm telling myself." She shook her head slowly. "Did I hear right? Did she really demand his forgiveness?"

"That's what I heard. Fortunately, he was out by then. But I think she'll be back because she's not going to let it go. She seems to think he has some nerve, coming back into her life, and she's going to let him know it."

She shifted uncomfortably as she looked toward the bed, knowing he was right. "What can we do about it?"

"Not much. You know, I once told Frank that he was a saving grace for his brother. But now...now I think that role has shifted to you. No one else is going to get him past this with his self-worth intact. You've got your work cut out for you, honey."

"I know."

"Try to get some rest. Tomorrow is gonna be challenging at best. I'll come up early, before I go into the squad room."

"I'll see you then."

Knowing she wasn't going to get any more sleep, she left the room in search of coffee.

* * *

The cafeteria was closed so she had to leave the hospital to get her coffee. It took a lot longer than she anticipated. When she got back to the room, his bed was empty. His IV was still hanging in its place above the bed and the monitor had been turned off, the leads laying on the pillow. She looked around for any hint that anything was amiss. Maybe his nurse had gotten him up for a walk. She knew that was the plan for the morning. As she moved around the end of the bed, though, she saw the IV catheter on the floor in a puddle of fluid. A trail of blood dripped to the bathroom door. His nurse had not gotten him up.

She knocked on the bathroom door, pulling it open when she got no answer. It was empty. Swearing, she pulled out her phone as she grabbed her bag and hurried out of the room. Logan answered as she got to the elevators. "I'm almost there," he said. "I stopped by to pick up Frank and..."

"He's gone, Mike."

Logan was silent for a minute. "He's what?"

"Gone. I went out to get coffee and something to eat. I just got back and he's gone. He pulled out his IV and turned off his monitor and he left."

"That son of a gun. Maybe you should have left the protection detail in place to keep an eye on him. I should have suspected something when he asked for clothes."

She got into the elevator, hoping she wouldn't lose the call. "What?"

"He told me they were gonna start getting him up and he didn't want to do laps around the hospital in his pajama pants. So I brought him a change of clothes."

Eames took a couple of slow, deep breaths. "Go back to his place. See if he's there. Call me if you find him."

"Right. Do you know what his state of mind is?"

"I have no idea. He was still sleeping when I left. He'll know people will be looking for him, but he will seek out someplace he feels safe. Home is the first place that comes to mind. I'll talk to you soon."

She ended the call and stared at her phone until the elevator doors opened on the lobby level. Stepping out, she called Sutter as she hurried toward the parking garage.

"Colonel, this is Detective Eames."

"Good morning, detective. I'm in the process of getting your list together."

"Have you heard from my partner at all?"

"Not this morning. How is he feeling?"

"Ah, I haven't talked to him yet. Has your wife said anything about visiting?"

"She has, but she hasn't done anything. My daughter will call me if she leaves the house."

"Call me before you come up to see him. Today might not be a good day."

"Is something wrong?"

"I don't know yet. I'll talk to you later, colonel."

She stopped at her car and, on a whim, called her partner. The call went directly to voice mail. "Damn it, Bobby," she muttered as she put away her phone and got into the car. She sat there for a minute, keys in her hand, thinking. Why would he leave? Where would he go? Not knowing his state of mind, any answer she had would be pure speculation. She thought about what she'd told Logan. _Safe_. He would go someplace where he felt safe. His home was always his refuge, the one place where he felt safe from the world. Few people were allowed access to his sanctuary...but Quon Li violated that and blood had been shed. No, he wouldn't go home. But there was one other place where he felt safe, where no one would think to look for him. She headed for Queens.

* * *

Her phone rang as she pulled into her driveway. _Logan_. "Did you find him?" she asked anxiously.

"No, but he was here. His car is gone. So is his badge, his wallet and his duty weapon."

"His phone?"

"Still on the counter. Battery's dead."

"So, what is he doing? Where did he go?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, sweetheart. We don't have a clue."

"Call me if you think of anything."

Getting out of the car, she looked up and down the block, disappointed when she didn't see his car. Maybe she had been wrong. She went into the house, but found nothing out of place. Deeply disappointed and very worried, she walked down the hall toward her bedroom to change her clothes. As she passed the bathroom, she heard a noise, but before she could react, strong arms wrapped around her, pinning her arms in place. She began to struggle until his familiar scent broke through her alarm. "Bobby?"

He didn't release her, but pressed his cheek against the side of her head, then kissed her temple. She leaned her head back against his chest. "Let me go so I can kick your ass for scaring the hell out of me. What are you doing here? Why did you leave the hospital?"

"No one will find me here," he said softly into her ear. "I'm...safe here."

"I found you."

"I was counting on that. But no one else will know. I...I just...There were too many people crowding me. I...I felt closed in...claustrophobic." He took a deep breath to calm himself. "I had to get away."

"Are you going to turn me loose?"

He hesitated before finally complying with her request. She spun around, fully intending to let her temper loose on him, but she stopped. "Oh, Bobby..." she murmured, reaching out to touch his face.

He looked terrible. He was in obvious pain, his hair disheveled and shirt unbuttoned. There was blood on his sleeve and on the bandage on his abdomen. She grabbed his arm and steered him toward the living room. Once he was seated on the couch, she went into the kitchen, returning with a bottle of water and a tumbler three-quarters full of an amber liquid.

"I don't have anything stronger than ibuprofen," she said with an apologetic tone, handing him the tumbler.

He smelled the liquid, then tasted it. "It's a good idea," he murmured as he took a drink. "Uhm, alcohol...was used as an anesthetic before modern medicines were developed..."

She kissed him. She knew he was rambling to keep his mind busy and to help him manage his pain, but she really didn't want a history lesson on modern anesthetics. He looked at her lips when she withdrew and managed a small smile. "Thank you."

"I wish I could do more."

She watched him down half the tumbler and lean his head back. Reaching out, she stroked his hair. "Would you go back to the hospital if I asked?"

He shook his head. "I'm okay here," he assured her. "And...no one, no one will find me here."

"I'll take you to a different hospital. They can manage your pain better."

He finished off the contents of the tumbler. "Frank. Talk to Frank. He can get me something more effective."

"Something legal?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. Does it matter? I'm not going back to the hospital."

"Ross is going to have an aneurysm, you know that?"

"That's not my problem."

"Bobby..."

"Please, Eames." He pressed the empty glass into her hand. "I need to feel safe."

She went into the kitchen and refilled the glass. When she turned, he was standing right there. She almost dropped the glass. "Stop sneaking up on me!"

"I didn't. I just...walked."

"Well, cut it out. Let me know you're there." She handed him the glass. "Go sit on the couch. Do you want something to eat? I think I have some jell-o..."

"You're not funny."

She smiled and looked in the refrigerator. "Eggs?"

"I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat if you're going to keep healing. I'll make you some eggs and coffee. Toast?"

"You have bacon?"

"Your system isn't ready for bacon. I have oatmeal."

"Toast is fine."

As she prepared the coffee pot, she called Logan. "I found him," she said.

"Thank God. Where is he?"

"Someplace he feels safe. Ask Frank if he can get him something to ease the pain. I'm going to try to talk him into going back to the hospital. Maybe I can convince him to go to St. Clare's or NYU."

"How's his state of mind?"

"He just ran off from the hospital, Mike, and he's looking for somewhere safe. How do you think he is?"

"Touche."

"Call me if Frank can get him something. I'll meet you somewhere."

"You don't trust me?"

"It's not that at all. He's a little paranoid right now. Let me deal with him and I'll call you later."

"Okay, fine. We'll work on the drugs."

'"Would you get that list from the colonel, too, please?"

"Yeah. Should I tell him his crazy wife drove her son into hiding?"

"Please, Mike. Just get the list for me and the medicine for Bobby."

"Fine. I'll call you later."

She set the phone on the counter and finished cooking the eggs, buttered two slices of toast and poured a cup of coffee. He had stretched out on his injured side. Laying the plate and cup on the coffee table, she sat on the edge of the couch and stroked his hair. He forced his eyes open. "Eat," she said.

"You called Logan?"

"He's with your brother. They were worried when you went missing. Where's your car?"

"Around the corner. I beat you here by about five minutes."

"Why did you leave?"

"I..." His expression changed to one of anger. "What right did she have?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

He sat up with a grunt of pain, which was driven away by his anger. "_She_ ran off," he growled, getting to his feet and walking an unsteady path around the room. "She abandoned _us_."

She watched him, not sure what to do. His unsteadiness increased as more alcohol entered his system. Getting up, she intercepted him and steered him back to the couch. "Your eggs are getting cold."

"I drove her away," he said, shifting emotional gears as he sat down. "She said I was the reason..."

She sat beside him. "Bobby, her mind is sick and she's deflecting blame from herself. You are the easiest target. You know how it works. Don't stop using your head."

"It's different when the blame is thrown in your direction," he complained.

He looked at her. She reached out and teased the hair that curled above his ear. "Throwing around blame doesn't change anything," she said. "Unfounded accusations don't change the truth. Just because she couldn't handle you doesn't mean you were a bad kid."

He closed his eyes, focusing on her fingers instead of her words. Everything felt as though it was underwater. Slowly, he moved toward her, capturing her mouth in a long, slow kiss. She slid her fingers into his hair as he leaned into her, forcing her back onto the couch. His hands tugged at her clothes, becoming more insistent as her fingertips moved lightly over his sides. She pushed his shirt off his shoulders, drawing circles and figure eights over his back. He groaned.

He broke the kiss as he pulled her shirt over her head. "Your eggs are getting cold," she repeated, breathless.

He silenced her with another kiss. He lasted only long enough to bring them both to climax. As she slid out of the way, he collapsed onto the couch and drifted to sleep. She dressed, covered him with a blanket and put his plate in the kitchen. She didn't know what to do with him. He was spiraling out of control and she didn't know how to stop him.


	29. Healing Begins on the Inside

Eames was in the kitchen, washing her dinner dishes, when she heard a knock at the door. Drying her hands on a towel, she looked toward the couch as she walked to the door. Goren was still sleeping. He'd been exhausted by his excursion from the hospital and his subsequent activity after she'd found him, combined with the alcohol she'd given him to deal with his pain, and he'd been sleeping soundly all day, shifting in his sleep from time to time but not waking. Weakened by his injury, he was taking a long while to recover even a little of his strength. Constantly fighting pain exacerbated his weakened condition.

His state of mind worried her, too. He showed signs of paranoia, but she couldn't blame him for that. Frances Sutter would make her paranoid, too, if she kept showing up unannounced, abusive and unreasonable. She couldn't even imagine what it must have been like for Bobby and Frank when they were little. Sutter's children at least had a filter in their father, a protector who wouldn't allow their mother's disease to negatively impact their lives. Frank and Bobby had no one. They'd had to bear the full brunt of her schizophrenia, her physical, psychological and emotional abuse. What a nightmare it must have been!

Surely the two boys had been better off with each other than they had been with her. Yet, Bobby felt such rage toward his mother for her abandonment. Was a bad mother truly better than no mother at all? Were abuse and neglect so much better than brotherly love? In a flash of sudden insight, Eames got it. She understood. Bobby wasn't angry at his mother for his own sake. He'd had it good, being raised by Frank instead of her. The anger he directed toward his mother was on Frank's behalf. Forced to grow into adult responsibilities overnight, Frank had given up most of his adolescence for his brother, a sacrifice he didn't seem to regret. Rather than resent Bobby for taking away part of his life, he seemed glad to have done it, which was why the brothers remained so close.

Unsure how he would react to a person at the door in his current mental state, she was glad the knock had not woken him. He remained sleeping because he truly did feel safe with her. She hurried across the room and opened the door.

Logan grinned at her and held up a prescription bottle that was half-filled with small white pills. "Compliments of Frank," he said as he handed her the pill bottle. "And for the record, I am not a fan of this plan."

Eames took the pill bottle and looked at the pills as she backed up to let him in the door. "Neither am I, but if we take him to see a doctor, he'll just want to put him back in the hospital and Bobby won't agree to that. That doesn't leave us many options."

Carrying a thick manila folder into the living room, Logan said, "I guess you're right, and I can't say I blame him."

"Neither do I, but he can't hide forever."

Logan set the file on the coffee table. "That won't stop him from trying, at least for awhile."

She opened the pill bottle and dumped a couple into her hand, looking at them. "Did Frank tell you what these are?"

"Nope, but he said to use them with caution. They're potent."

"Did he at least tell you how much he should take?"

"One tablet every four hours. He said they're fast acting but the effect doesn't last very long. You can give it every three hours if he needs it, but be careful."

She snorted. "I'm taking dosing directions for illegally obtained narcotics from a junkie who says 'be careful.'"

"Who knows drugs better?" Logan said with a short laugh.

"The things I do for him," she said with a shake of her head.

"All in the name of love," Logan teased.

Goren stirred at the sound of their voices. "Alex?" he murmured.

"I'm right here," she said, approaching the couch. "How do you feel?"

"Not so good," he answered, holding his side, which was throbbing to the beat of his heart. It wasn't the worst pain he'd ever experienced, but without something to take off the edge, he couldn't function.

"I have something effective to give you for the pain now," she said. "So you won't have to spend the next two weeks wasted to cope with the pain. Let me get you some water."

Goren looked at Logan from beneath half-closed lids, his eyes glazed with pain. Logan shook his head. "You should be in a hospital."

"Eames told you I was here?"

"No. She just told me she found you."

"So how did you know I was here?"

Logan sat on the coffee table and leaned forward. "I know you better than you think. She told me that you were someplace you felt safe. You weren't at your place, which was where Frank and I looked. So I asked myself, _Where else would he feel safe?_ And here I am."

"Where's Frank?"

"I dropped him off before I came here. I didn't know how Alex would feel about me bringing him into her house. She's not his biggest fan."

Goren understood that and he nodded. He started to sit up, but he didn't get far, groaning deeply as he fell back onto the couch. A thin sheen of sweat broke out across his forehead. "Hey, hey," Logan said. "Take it easy. Here, let me give you a hand."

He moved to the couch, where he helped Goren to sit up, bearing most of his friend's weight. Goren's breathing was shallow and he braced his arm tightly against his side. He groaned again, feeling sick to his stomach. Eames came back into the room and handed him a glass of water and one of the little pills. She trusted that Frank wouldn't do anything to cause his brother harm. Goren examined the pill before he took it. "Do you know what it is?" Eames asked.

He nodded. "I know."

Logan and Eames looked at him expectantly as he leaned his head back and tried not to vomit. "Well?" Logan said. "You gonna share with the class? What the hell is it?"

Goren didn't move anything but his mouth. "It's, uh, it's morphine. It'll get me through."

Eames sat beside Goren and lightly stroked his forehead, soothing him. He leaned against her, and as he relaxed, the pain eased a little and so did the nausea.

"It's been an exciting day," Logan said, attempting to distract hm. "To fill you in, the shit really hit the fan late this morning. Ross stopped by to talk about the case with the two of you and you weren't there. They told him you left against medical advice and he about hit the roof. Neither of you answered your phones, so I was next on his hit list for an ass-chewing. Somehow, it just doesn't seem right that you screw up and I get in trouble."

Eames said, "My phone is in the other room charging. I'll call Ross later."

"Just remember, the longer you wait, the more upset he'll be when you finally call. But I haven't gotten to the best part yet. Apparently, after Ross left, Mrs. Sutter showed up looking for you—without the colonel. She pitched a holy hell fit and accused everyone from your doctor to the mayor of plotting to keep you from her."

Goren opened his eyes and looked at Logan, confused. "She what? Why would she do that?"

"She wasn't happy that she couldn't find you. They told her you'd left the hospital and she wouldn't believe them. She started looking in other rooms, claiming they had taken her son away from her again. They had to restrain her and sedate her. When they called the colonel, he and her doctor convinced them to let them take her home. I guess the colonel has a lot of experience dealing with her after thirty years. He called me when he couldn't reach one of you. He wants to see you when you feel up to it."

Goren was quiet. Eames asked, "Is he upset with Bobby?"

Logan shook his head. "No, not at all. None of this is Bobby's fault, although Sutter wishes he'd waited until he was stronger to tell her who he is. He thinks Bobby bolted because of Mrs. Sutter."

"So that news won't be a surprise to him," Eames said as she turned to Goren. "You okay?"

He shook his head slowly because he wasn't. "I-I don't get it."

"Her world revolves around _her_, Bobby," Logan said. "Sutter tried to explain it to me. He said that everything is about her, for her and because of her. There are no independent variables. Life with her has its challenges, but boredom was never one of them."

"So...she thinks the hospital did something with me, just to prevent her from seeing me?"

"Apparently, and she wasn't happy about it at all."

"But...I...I still don't understand. Why...Why does she want to see me if I was such a horrible kid she was forced to leave in search of a better life?"

"Did you think that maybe it wasn't you?" Logan said. "Maybe it was your old man's fault. After he left, she just wasn't equipped to go at life alone, not with two kids."

"Then why would she blame me?"

"Because he's not around to blame," Eames said gently. "And you are."

"You're the closest available target. It certainly wasn't her fault, so she has to blame someone."

"Her mind is all twisted up from her disease," Eames added, relieved that he wasn't able to penetrate a mind that sick. His insight had blinders right now and he wasn't able to apply it to his mother. "Maybe it's a good thing that you can't get into it. Maybe you shouldn't try."

"She's not a perp," he said. "I don't need to get into her mind. But I do want to understand."

Eames pressed her lips against his temple. "You always have to understand," she softly admonished.

His brow furrowed. "I'm a detective. That's what I do."

"But some things, some minds, are best left alone," she argued.

"She's irrational," Logan interrupted, before the argument got going. "You're not. Let it go at that."

Goren didn't like being ganged up on, and he was growing agitated. He rubbed his side, which reminded Eames that now she was somehow responsible for his care. She leaned in and softly kissed him. "I should probably change your dressing. They were doing that every day in the hospital. I don't want you getting an infection."

She took the folder Logan had brought and placed it in Goren's hands, then went to find everything she would need to change his dressing. She stopped in the bedroom to pick up her phone, which showed seven missed calls, one from her father, two from Sutter and four from Ross. None had left her a voicemail.

Not wanting to talk to Sutter in front of her partner, she took the time to call him. He sounded stressed when he answered the phone. "Hello, Colonel Sutter. This is Detective Eames."

"Detective, I'm glad to hear from you. I've been trying to contact you. What happened to your partner? Is he all right?"

"He's okay. He...decided to leave the hospital."

"His mother was a driving force behind that decision, wasn't she?"

Eames sighed. "He was kind of overwhelmed and he felt that he needed to get away. He was feeling vulnerable at the hospital and everything started to close in on him. He's a very sensitive man and he didn't handle her reaction to his revelation very well, even though he tried to prepare himself. Attempting to put the blame for her actions on him is not fair. He was just a kid. If she couldn't cope with being a mother, that wasn't his fault."

"I agree with you, and—between you and me—it was probably a wise decision for him to leave."

"Colonel, he wasn't ready to be released from the hospital. He's recovering from a very serious injury."

"I realize that, but being under constant stress, worrying that his mother might return to visit, probably would have done him more harm than good. This morning she managed to leave the house without my daughter realizing she was gone. When she got to the hospital and found him missing, she was convinced that there is a conspiracy now to keep him from her. She won't listen to anyone. She just wants to see him."

"He doesn't understand that. Yesterday she seemed to resent his existence and today she expects him to embrace her with forgiveness and accept her back into his life? It doesn't work that way."

"She was very upset that you and Detective Logan were judging her. She felt that was unfair."

"You mean she was pissed that we were siding with her son instead of validating what she did?"

He sighed heavily. "You don't understand her."

"I don't think I want to. Look, colonel, I know that she's your wife and you love and want to protect her. But her son is my..." She hesitated for a moment, not certain how she should classify their relationship. She decided to be honest with him. "He's my partner, and he's my lover, and I will protect _him_. What she did was wrong and she should be accountable for that, whatever her excuse for doing it."

"In her own way, she loved Frank and Bobby. Her decision to leave was too painful for her to bear, which is why her mind invented that fire. To her it was real and she mourned her sons with real grief."

"And now that she knows it wasn't real, she blames Bobby for her decision to leave?"

Sutter made a noise of frustration. He didn't know what to say to help her understand him. "Please don't think that I condone what she did, but I am trying to understand because I love her. She has been a good mother to my son and daughter, but she never had to do it alone. She had me to help her most of the time, and she always had a nanny for the kids. It made a difference. When she felt overwhelmed, the nanny always knew what to do. Had she had help in raising Frank and Bobby, everything would have been different, but she didn't know that was what she needed. Some part of her mind drove her to seek a new life, to start over and, perhaps, do it right. That part of her mind also got rid of the one thing that held her back from seeking that new life, her sons. The fire was very real to her when I met her. I believed it was real all these years, until I learned who Robert was. I can't tell you how much I wish she'd brought those boys with her into my life."

"Do you think she honestly believed they were dead all these years and now she suddenly remembers that the fire wasn't real?"

"I understand that your job has trained you to be suspicious of everything, but yes, I do believe she remained convinced that her sons died in a fire until Robert revealed his identity to her. That jarred her mind back into the reality of what she'd done. Blaming him was her way of protecting herself."

"But what about him? She was the one who was wrong! That's not fair to him. He already felt some level of guilt, thinking he could have been the reason she left. For her to straight out tell him that...that was damaging. It wasn't his fault."

"I know that. She remembers him as a difficult boy. She said he was beginning to get into alcohol and drugs, even at that young age, and she didn't know how to handle him. She came home from work one day to find him on the couch, half-drunk and half-dressed with a girl in the same state, making out and smoking pot in her living room. When she started yelling, Bobby laughed. She chased the girl out and smacked him around, but he still laughed. It never occurred to her that the boy wasn't laughing at her, that he was stoned and just laughing. That was how Bobby coped. She said she couldn't handle him."

"Frank figured it out."

"Maybe Frank was able to not judge his brother. Their mother looked at them and saw her own failure reflected back at her, at least through her younger boy."

"She had no idea that Frank was doing the same things? That he was the one who was drawing Bobby into that world, providing the drugs and alcohol, setting the example?"

"I guess not. Perhaps Frank was better at hiding it."

"Maybe he was. I have to go now, colonel."

"Would you ask him to please consider meeting with her again?"

"No, I won't. After what the last two encounters did to him, I will not ask him to go through that again."

Sutter was quiet for a moment. "I understand. Perhaps he will be better prepared after he recovers."

"That's up to him. I won't ask him to put himself through that again, because if I ask, he will do it. I won't be part of that. The decision has to be his, and his alone. I'll be in touch, colonel."

She ended the call, gathered her supplies and went back to the living room.

Goren and Logan were seated on the couch, studying the papers Sutter had given Logan. She set the dressing supplies on the coffee table and stepped around to the back of the couch. She placed her hands on Goren's shoulders and leaned in to look at the pages he held. "Find anything?" she asked, speaking softly into his ear.

He nearly dropped the papers. She continued to breathe softly right next to his ear. He leaned back and looked up at her as she pulled away from him. She played with his hair. "Let me change that dressing."

"Keep breathing in my ear like that and you can do anything you want to me."

"Promises, promises," she said with a smile. "Lay down."

He pulled off his shirt and stretched out on the couch as Logan got up and went into the kitchen to get a drink. Eames knelt beside the couch and gently peeled off the dressing. Using an antiseptic wash, she cleaned the surgical site. He groaned softly as she stroked his skin. "It looks good," she said.

"It _feels_ good when you do that."

She washed it a little more, then waited for it to dry. While she waited, he slipped his hand under her shirt. She shifted away from his fingers, laughing. "Behave yourself," she hissed.

After she finished bandaging his wound, she leaned in to kiss him. "There. How are you feeling?"

"Better," he said as he sat up.

He was moving with greater ease and his breathing was easy again. His pain was well under control. "You look better," she said, relieved.

"I'm glad I left. I'm comfortable here and I can relax without being sedated. I'm not constantly on edge, waiting for the door to open."

She sat beside him and settled against him as he put his arm around her. He leaned forward to look at her face. She smiled and he kissed her deeply, sliding his hand back under her shirt. Instead of tickling her, he stroked her side as he sought her breast. She arched into his hand and made a soft noise as he pushed her over onto the couch. Neither of them remembered they were not alone in the house until Logan returned from the kitchen. He watched them for a minute, waiting for either of them to notice him. When they didn't, he cleared his throat.

"Okay, kids, save it for the bedroom," he teased. "We have a case to work here."

Goren smiled against her mouth but let her wriggle out from under him. She wasn't entirely comfortable with Logan's teasing or with his willingness to watch them—and Goren's apparent willingness to let him. He sat up, following Eames with his eyes.

She was glad the medicine Frank sent was effective and he was feeling better. She smiled at him. "Are you ready to eat?" she asked, realizing he hadn't eaten at all. "You need to eat so you can heal."

He extended his legs along the side of the coffee table, wincing a little at the pull on his side when he stretched.

He nodded, more to make her happy than to satisfy any real hunger drive. He knew she was right. He also knew he'd made the right decision when her expression brightened. "What do you want?" she asked.

"I'll eat whatever you make," he answered. "Surprise me."

He didn't really feel a particular craving for anything specific. She looked at Logan. "What about you, Mike?"

"If you're offering, I'll eat," he answered.

"If it's edible, Mike will eat it," Goren joked.

She laughed softly and walked to the kitchen. Goren watched her until she was out of sight, and he sighed. Logan grinned at him. "Feeling better, I see."

"What? Oh, uh, yeah. I feel pretty good right now."

"Why don't we do something productive while we wait?"

"Productive?"

"Yeah, like go through the case file. We _are_ still working a case, you know."

Reaching out, Goren grabbed the thick folder from the coffee table and opened it. "This is just the import listings and providence documentation. Where's the rest of the file?" he asked.

"Out in the car. I'll get it."

He trotted to the door and left the house. Goren got up and went to the kitchen. Eames was setting a pot on the stove to boil. "Need something?" she asked.

"You mean other than you?"

"Yes."

"How about a beer?"

"Not while you're taking that medicine. How about coffee?"

He approached her. "I don't suppose I can make you change your mind..."

"Not about that. Sometimes, you can be reckless. I'm not going to let you drink while you're taking narcotics. Now, you can have coffee, or orange juice, or..."

She trailed off when he stepped up to her and placed his hands on her waist. She placed her hands against his chest, sliding them around his neck when he leaned in to kiss her. Pausing with his mouth barely an inch from hers, he murmured, "I love you."

He claimed her mouth before she could respond and she melted in his arms.

Logan returned from the car and set the file on the coffee table. He heard a noise from the kitchen and decided not to intrude a second time. Scrawling a note, he set it on top of a folder and left the house. His note read: _Went for a walk. Call me when it's safe to come back._

Then, it started to rain.


	30. Breakthrough

Logan ducked under a tree to answer his phone when it rang. "Yeah?"

"You didn't have to leave," Goren said.

"Ah, who doesn't like a nice walk in the rain?"

"It's raining?"

"Just a bit."

"Well, come on back and get dried out."

"Be there in a few."

Ten minutes later, Eames let him into the house. "Why did you leave?"

"When you're, uh, _busy_, you're less uptight when I'm not here."

"I'm less uptight when I _know_ you're not here, stupid. As far as I knew you were in the living room. Go dry off and get changed. Bobby has clothes in my bedroom."

"Of course he does."

"Just go."

She pushed his shoulder. He grinned at Goren when he crossed the room, then winked. Eames shook her head and sat beside her partner on the couch. "Idiot."

"Logan or me?" he asked with a grin.

"That depends on the day," she retorted.

He laughed, then grunted in pain. "Don't make me laugh," he complained.

She gave him a kiss and placed the folder Logan brought in his hands, diverting his attention. He flipped through the pages, one by one, stopping at a picture of an elephant figurine. His eyes scanned the page. Something was missing. "Uh...this...this one..."

Eames looked at the picture. "What about it?"

"It says here that it's, uhm, made of green agate, 7 inches high, 10 inches long, 5 inches wide...uh, that's a good handful."

"For you maybe," she answered.

He smiled. "If it isn't made of agate...if it's, say, jade...it would be worth a fortune. If it's a relic or an archaeological find, something of significance..."

"Did I hear the word fortune?" Logan said as he came into the room, drying his hair with a towel.

"A hand-carved jade elephant from Imperial China." He moved his hands to demonstrate size as he added, "About this big."

"That's a lot of jade."

He nodded and tapped his fingers absently on the page in front of him, thinking hard. Something bothered him about the figurine, but he wasn't sure what it was. Eames gave him a gentle nudge and he shook his head. "Uh, sorry. If-If you look through these papers, most of this stuff has already been signed off by the colonel's people as having proper providence and okay to sell. But this elephant..." He set aside the paperwork for the elephant figurine, as well as papers for similar figurines of a panda, a dragon, and two humans, a soldier and an old man. Then he withdrew another half a dozen papers depicting different ceramic figurines. He fanned them all out on the tabletop. "And these others...They haven't been signed off. According to the paperwork, these items were supposed to have been in a handbag that Annie and Morris brought with them on their flight home, but now, they can't be located."

"Are they all jade?" Eames asked.

"No. Just the elephant and the dragon. The panda and the two human figurines are ceramic with precious stone inlays. These others are ordinary ceramics."

"What's the difference?" Logan asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Between the two groups of items. All I know about that stuff is that they break."

Goren smiled and explained, "Well, the first group of items are worth a lot of money as they are. They're most likely artifacts from Imperial China that don't have proper providence. The others...there's something not right about them..."

"Aside from being stuff I shouldn't be handling, what are you getting at?" Logan asked.

Shifting closer to Goren, Eames picked up the papers and looked them over. She got up suddenly. Both men watched her in silence as she crossed the room, picked something off a shelf and returned to the couch, handing it to Logan as she sat down. He looked like she'd handed him a snake, passing it off quickly to Goren. "Didn't I just say that's stuff I don't need to be handling?"

She laughed. "Did you feel the weight of it?"

Goren smiled with pride. She'd seen the same thing he had. "What of it?" Logan asked.

"How much would you say it weighs?" Goren asked, tossing the ceramic cat in the air and catching it before he set it on the coffee table.

Logan shrugged. "Do I look like a scale? I don't know. Half a pound?"

Goren nodded. "Something like that. It's a little bit smaller than these other ceramic figurines, but not enough to explain weights of five, six, or ten pounds. They should weigh ounces, not pounds."

Logan frowned. "So they're smuggling something else into the country. Drugs?"

Goren shook his head. "Heroin bricks wouldn't account for that weight."

"But metal would," Eames said.

Goren got up with a grunt, pain flaring in his side. It died down quickly and he began to pace, which cleared his mind and helped him to think. "Southeast Asia is rich in natural resources, including a number of metals," he said, rubbing his forehead and speaking more to himself than to Logan or Eames. "Antimony, titanium, zinc, tungsten..." He shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck as his mind churned through the facts he knew about Southeast Asia. "Copper, tin, nickel, iron..."

He was getting agitated as he dismissed each mineral that came to him as impractical or simply not worth the high cost of smuggling and the risk associated with getting caught. What could possibly be worth three lives to recover from a busted smuggling operation? Absently, he rubbed his side, which was beginning to hurt again.

Eames got up from the couch and went into the kitchen to check on the spaghetti, which was almost done. While she was in there, she grabbed a glass of water, a bottle of beer and the pills Frank had sent. Returning to the living room, she handed the beer to Logan and set the water on the coffee table so she could get a pill from the container. Setting it down, she picked up the water and stepped into the path of her partner's pacing.

As she expected, he ran into her, sloshing water down the front of her shirt. "I-I'm sorry," he said, brushing his hands over the front of her shirt without even thinking.

She stretched up and kissed him, which helped to settle him. "Alex..."

She pressed the glass with what water was left in it into his left hand and the tiny pill into his right. "Dinner is almost ready," she said softly. "Take your medicine while I get changed."

"Th-Thank you," he replied, leaning in to give her a lingering kiss.

She stepped back from the kiss and lightly touched his mouth. Then she stepped around him and left the room. Logan grinned at him as he swallowed the medicine. "You know," he said, drawing Goren's attention to him. "Watching the two of you almost makes me want to go looking for a girlfriend. Almost."

"A girlfriend," Goren repeated, mulling over the word.

"What do you call her?"

"She's my partner," he replied.

Logan laughed. "Buddy, if I treated my partner that way, she'd kick my ass. Not to mention I'd feel like a dirty old man, but that's beside the point."

Goren grinned. His eye caught the papers on the coffee table, and he looked at them, his mind spinning off in several directions. "Alex," he called, looking toward the hallway.

She came down the hall pulling down her shirt. "What? What's wrong?"

"You...uh, you read the paper while I was, uhm, recovering...you know, when I was unconscious."

"I read the paper every day, just like you do."

"No, I mean you read it, to me, out loud, didn't you?"

"A couple of times I did. Why?"

His agitation was turning to excitement. "Do you remember reading something about, uh, Cambodia and, uh, Laos, and...a couple of other Asian countries? About museum break-ins?"

"Vaguely. Why?"

"Do you remember what was taken?"

She thought back to the article, to which she hadn't paid much attention. She'd read the paper for his sake, to hopefully keep him connected to her through the sound of her voice. She shook her head. "I don't remember."

"Do you still have that paper?"

"It's probably in the recycling bin in the garage. I haven't been here to put it out..."

Before she could finish what she was saying, he was out the door. She looked at Logan, who shrugged. "Beats me. Is dinner ready?"

She laughed. "Help yourself. I'm going to help him before he hurts himself."

She found him in the garage, sitting on the floor beside her car, surrounded by newspapers. She sat beside him. "How can I help?"

"Uhm, find that article."

She reached out and ran her fingers through his hair. "You need a haircut," she said softly, gently teasing his ear.

He closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation of her fingers against his skin. "I, I'll get one," he said softly as he opened his eyes to look at her. Her smile warmed his heart. She moved closer to him. "How are you feeling?" she asked as her hand strayed over his injured side.

Distracted from the papers, his senses were reeling. "Feeling? Uh, I...I feel okay..."

She shifted to her knees and placed her arms on his shoulders. He forgot about the newspapers.

* * *

Logan looked up as Goren and Eames came back into the house. Still excited but physically exhausted, Goren sat on the couch and opened the paper in his hand to page eight. "In a rash of recent burglaries, a number of artifacts have gone missing from museums in Bangkok, Shanghai, Vientiane, Phnon Penh and Taipei," he said. "The most recent burglary was about two weeks before Annie and Morris took their trip."

Logan arched an eyebrow. "You think those figurines were taken?"

"Yes and no. The first set of items, the jade and the ceramics with the gemstone inlays, those were stolen and smuggling into New York intact. Collectors will pay a great deal for those items, no questions asked. A lot of the stolen items were gold. With the price of gold today, they'd be worth more to the mob as gold than they would as relics. So I'll bet they were melted down and poured into those ceramics, smuggled in that way. "

Logan's eyebrows arched. "Oh, great. So, now what?"

"We have to find out what happened to that bag and those figurines." Goren sighed. "We need to talk to the colonel again."

Logan pulled his phone out of his pocket but it rang before he had a chance to dial. "Wheeler," he said. "Probably doing Ross' dirty work." He flipped it open. "Logan."

He listened intently to what she had to say. "You're kidding me. Uh, yeah...I know where he is. No. No, he kind of freaked out a little. It's a long story. No, don't tell Ross that! Trust me, Wheeler. Yeah, he's okay. I'll tell her. Thanks."

He snapped the phone shut. "You really need to call Ross," he told Eames. "He's about half an hour from putting out an APB on both of you."

Eames sighed. "Okay, fine. I'll call him."

"Oh, and they found Zhao's kid."

Goren looked concerned. "He's not, uh..."

"Dead? No. Quon Li and his buddy beat the living hell out of him, but he survived. Wheeler and Ross talked to him this morning. We're on the right track. Quon Li was after some kind of figurines that they thought Annie had. They thought he knew more than he did, poor kid. He was just looking for a good time and he picked the wrong girl. When Quon Li realized the kid wasn't involved, he let him go."

With reluctance, Eames pulled out her phone. Bracing herself, she dialed her captain's number. "Eames? Where are you? What the hell is going on? Where is Goren?"

"It's nice to hear your voice, too, captain."

"I want answers, detective."

"Yes, sir."

"Do you know where he is?"

"Yes, sir."

"The doctors said he was not ready to leave the hospital. What's going on with him?"

"It's complicated, sir. He's being taken care of."

"What hospital is he in?"

"He's not in a hospital, captain."

"Then you found a doctor to take care of him?"

"No, sir."

"Any kind of trained medical professional?"

"No, captain. He sought sanctuary. He needed to be someplace he felt safe."

"Why wasn't he safe in the hospital?"

"That's not something I can explain right now, captain. Just trust me. He's being well cared for. He's okay."

"So who's taking care of him?"

"Logan and I are."

She could hear his exasperation over the phone. "Logan can't take care of himself and Goren had a very serious injury. Eames, that man needs to be in a hospital."

"Yes, sir. I know that. But he refuses and that's his right."

"Let me talk to him."

"Hold on."

She held the phone out to her partner. "He wants to talk to you."

Goren shook his head. "Take the damn phone," she growled.

"I don't want to talk to him."

"Take the phone."

Logan watched the exchange with amusement until, as predicted, Goren caved and took the phone. "Captain," he said.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Goren?"

"I suppose that depends on who you ask."

"Damn it, you need to be in the hospital."

"No, sir, I don't. I feel okay and I'm in a safe house."

"What drove you into hiding? Did someone from the mafia show up again? We can protect you..."

"I don't need protection where I am. Honestly, captain, if anything happens Logan and Eames will do what needs to be done."

"Put Eames back on."

He held the phone back out to Eames. She gave him a look as she took it. "Yes, captain?"

"If something happens, you'll get him to a hospital?"

"Absolutely."

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"I will, sir. It's just...complicated."

Ross was silent for a minute. "Keep me posted."

"I will, sir. Oh, we may have had a break in the case."

"What kind of break?"

"Goren identified the items the Triad is after. We just have to locate them."

"Good work."

"I told you, he's doing okay."

"Make sure he is. Call me tomorrow."

"Yes, sir."

She snapped the phone closed and tossed it to Logan. He shrugged. "I didn't think you'd want your house stormed by SWAT in the middle of the night after Ross issued an APB."

Goren watched his partner. "What are you going to tell him?"

"The truth. He wants to know what you're running away from and I'm going to tell him. If he gives me a hard time, I'll introduce him to Mrs. Sutter and threaten to tell her where he lives."

He laughed, wincing at the pain that flared in his side. "Ow...I told you not to make me laugh," he complained.

She moved closer to him. "You need to rest, Bobby. You've done a lot today."

He was feeling drained, but he fought it. "I'm okay..."

"Uh-huh," Logan argued. "You hit your brick wall, man. Time to take it easy."

Eames took the papers from his hands and coaxed him to lay down. He didn't fight her. Once he was prone, his head in her lap, he couldn't fight it any more and he drifted off.

"Dammit," Eames muttered. "He didn't eat."

"He was too excited about those artifacts."

Eames sighed, then pointed at the papers she'd taken from him. "Go see the colonel. Ask him if he knows where any of those items are or where they went."

"Will do."

He gathered the papers, emptied a file folder and slipped them in. Checking the time, he called Sutter, making sure it wasn't too late for him to stop by to see him. "I'm sure Mrs. Sutter will want to interrogate me," he muttered as he tucked the folder under his shirt to keep it dry. "I'll see you tomorrow. Call me if you need anything."

She nodded and picked up the remote, turning on the television to watch the news.


	31. Pulling It All Together

Reluctantly, Eames left Goren sleeping on the couch, but she woke during the night and was unable to fall back to sleep. Although she had only been sleeping with him for a little over two weeks, she missed having him in the bed beside her. So she got up and went into the living room. He hadn't moved at all. She knelt beside the couch and tenderly ran her fingers through his hair. He stirred and opened his eyes, giving her a sleepy smile. His eyes slid closed again. So she leaned in and kissed him. He kissed her back and when she withdrew from the kiss, he opened his eyes again. "Come to bed," she whispered.

She helped him get up off the couch, but realized he wasn't fully awake when he walked toward the kitchen and she had to turn him in the right direction. Once she got him to the bedroom, he was out as soon as he hit the bed.

She climbed into the bed beside him, and he turned toward her in his sleep. He slid his arm around her, drawing her close to him. She rested her head against his chest and snuggled close. Stroking his skin, she enjoyed being with him, being his, and she finally drifted to sleep.

* * *

When she woke the next morning, he still slept deeply, his arm tucked around her, keeping her close to his body. She remained in his arms until driven from the bed by the call of nature. Then she went into the kitchen to fix coffee and breakfast.

As she fixed herself breakfast, she thought about how much better she'd slept after he'd joined her in the bed. He was warm and comfortable and, more than anything else, somehow, she simply felt cherished when he held her. It was a wonderful feeling she hadn't experienced in years. Until now, she didn't realize how much she missed it, and she loved him even more for the warmth and love she felt from him. He wasn't perfect, but he was perfectly hers, and that was good enough.

* * *

He slept until late afternoon. Logan had just arrived and was about to tell Eames what he'd discovered about the missing artifacts when Goren came out of the bedroom. Eames got up and stepped into a hug. Logan said, "You look like you were run over by a truck."

Goren sat beside him on the couch as Eames went into the kitchen, returning with a glass of water and a pill. "Here," she said. "Take this."

He swallowed the tiny pill with the powerful punch and then unexpectedly pulled her down into his lap. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pressed his forehead against her arm and waited for the pain to pass.

She shifted her position, sliding her arm around him so that his head rested against her chest. She stroked his hair. He sighed softly, content and as comfortable as he could get until the fire in his side began to fade.

Eyes closed, his head spinning, he caressed her back, unaware of the time that passed until the pain began to ease and his mind started feeling fuzzy. His body relaxed as the pain gradually receded.

"Better now?" Logan asked when Goren looked at him.

Goren nodded. "Mornings are always rough."

"Especially when they're in the afternoon, huh?"

He pulled back to look at Eames, seeking confirmation. She nodded. "It's almost five."

"I hate losing days," he grumbled.

"Nothing's lost," she said, tickling the back of his neck.

He made a soft noise and tightened his arms around her. Kissing his head, she said, "You didn't eat last night so you're going to eat now."

He neither agreed nor disagreed until she nudged him. "I heard you," he responded, irritated.

She touched his chin and tipped his face up toward hers. "Don't give me grief for taking care of you."

"I...I'm sorry."

"Mike got here right before you got up, and he just started telling me what he found out today. While he brings you up to speed, I'll get you something to eat."

"I don't want any more broth and jell-o."

With a smile, she kissed him, but as she began to pull away, he tightened his hold on her, continuing the tender kiss. She relaxed against him.

Eames knew that Goren was a very physical person with a raw power that simmered just below the surface. That power had the potential to be explosive when he lost control of his rage, but mostly it came through slowly, driving his passion for justice, for the truth, and for her.

She knew him well enough not to be surprised by his very physical nature, but she was not prepared for the power of the emotions that drove him. He was very hands-on and he was willing to touch, well, anything. He explored his world with all his senses; she knew that. But now that his world had expanded to include access to every part of her body, he surprised her in ways she had never imagined. He brought her to heights she never dreamed existed with his hands, with his mouth, with his body. For the first time in her life, she had an understanding of the power of addiction that drove people to extremes of behavior.

She appreciated his affectionate disposition. He had so much love to give her, she sometimes thought she might drown in it. As much as she had hesitated initially to get involved with him, now she craved being alone with him. He constantly brought new challenges to her life. She had never had such a physical lover who possessed such raw power in his emotional presence.

She withdrew from his kiss, breathless and overwhelmed. Placing a hand against his cheek, she looked into his eyes, where love shone past the pain, and she smiled. "No broth or jell-o, I promise."

She got up from his lap and he watched her cross the room and disappear into the kitchen. "What was that?" Logan asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Something just happened there."

"Uhm, I kissed her."

"Buddy, that was more than a kiss."

Goren looked at him, confused. "I don't think so."

Logan smiled at his friend's confusion. Goren honestly didn't realize how intense he was. The pain of his injury distracted him and dulled his observational skill and his senses. He didn't notice the powerful effect he had on Eames, which amused Logan almost as much as Eames did when she went weak in the knees and tried to hide it. "Yeah, it was. I swear, you can put more—I don't know what—into an emotional encounter than anyone I've ever known. You just blew her out of the water with that kiss."

"She's not complaining."

"Of course not. I wouldn't complain if someone kissed me like that, either." He grinned and teased, "Not even if it was you doing the kissing."

"Don't count on that," Goren retorted with a good-natured smile.

"I'm disappointed."

"Sure you are. Did you make any progress today?"

"You could say that. I went to see Sutter last night."

"How is he?"

"He's fine. Kinda worried about you. Funny how he's so concerned but your mother...uh, never mind."

"What about her?"

Logan still hesitated. "Bobby, I really don't think you need the details."

"Yeah, I do. Tell me."

Logan hesitated a little longer before he gave in. "Sutter is genuinely worried about you and how you're doing. Your mother seems concerned, and maybe she is, but only as far as she thinks it involves her. She's looking at this whole situation from a very selfish perspective. It makes me mad."

Goren shrugged his shoulders, trying not to take it personally. "There's nothing we can do about it," he muttered, his tone guarded.

Logan tried to read him, but as emotionally intense as Goren was, he was a master at hiding how he felt when he wanted to. "That's a very pragmatic approach, but tell me what's really inside. What does your heart say?"

"I'm actually trying to keep my heart out of it."

Eames came back into the room with a bowl of oatmeal. "Here. See how this sits and we'll go from there."

As she sat beside him, he looked into the bowl and moved the mush around with the spoon. "Uh, what's in it?"

"Don't dissect it. It's good for your heart."

"We were just talking about that," Logan said.

"Oatmeal?" Eames asked.

"No. His heart."

Eames gave her partner a worried look. "What's wrong with your heart?"

He glared at Logan. "Nothing. My heart is perfectly healthy."

"Think so?" Logan challenged.

"I'm sure of it," Goren shot back.

"What is going on?" Eames demanded, getting worried.

"Nothing," Goren assured her as he wrapped his free arm around her. "We were talking about my mother and I just prefer not to involve my heart where she is concerned."

She rested her head against his chest. "I think that's a good approach. Why were you talking about her?"

"We were talking about my visit with Colonel Sutter last night," Logan said. "I brought up his mother, so it's my fault."

Eames gave Goren another look. "It's okay," he said, trying to calm her protective streak. "We have to talk about her sometime."

"Let's at least wait until your medicine kicks in some more," Eames said, kissing his cheek. "Eat your oatmeal. I put brown sugar and a little cinnamon in it...and dried cranberries."

She'd gone to the effort of making it for him, the least he could do was eat it. He pressed his lips against the side of her head and murmured, "Thank you."

Logan grinned at them. Eames frowned back. "What's with you?"

He shook his head, still grinning. "Nothing."

"Then why do you look like the cat who ate the canary?"

"Me? What canary?"

Goren laughed, then groaned and almost dropped his bowl, which got Logan laughing and they fed off each other. Eames moved the bowl before it got dumped. Goren got up from the couch and crossed the room to the kitchen. Eames followed him, watching him pour a cup of coffee, adding milk to it before she asked, "Are you all right?"

He heard the deep concern, and he made the effort to turn toward her and smile. "I, uhm, I have new respect for the term 'die laughing.'"

He picked up the pill bottle from the counter and dumped a pill into his hand. "Bobby..." she began.

He swallowed the pill with his coffee, then walked to her. "I'll be okay," he promised, giving her a kiss before he walked past her, back to the couch.

She followed him into the living room and watched him sit down and pick up his bowl. He took a few bites, groaning softly when his stomach began to cramp because it hadn't had anything of substance for awhile. He waited for the pain to pass as his stomach adjusted to the food. Eames noticed he'd stopped eating. "Is something wrong with the oatmeal?"

"No. It's fine. It's my stomach that's the problem. I haven't eaten anything solid in a while. I have to get used to food again. I just need to take it slowly."

"I can make the oatmeal a little thinner."

He shook his head and reached out to take her hand. "It's good. I'll just take smaller bites."

She sat beside him and touched the back of his neck. She tenderly played with the hair that curled against his neck. He tightened his grip on the spoon, wanting to turn his full attention to her. Logan wouldn't mind, but with Logan in the room, she would. Yet...she continued to tease his hair, to stroke his neck. He knew she could feel the occasional tremor that ran through his body, that she knew what it meant...

To distract himself from the desire building in him, unwilling to ask her to stop, he turned his attention to Logan and asked, "Was the colonel any help in finding those missing artifacts?"

"Actually, he was. I found the bag _and_ the missing artifacts."

Goren sat up straight, his discomfort and his desire temporarily forgotten. "You did? Where are they?"

"Right now, they're in the trunk of my car."

Agitated and alarmed, Goren set his oatmeal on the coffee table and started to get up. Logan gently pushed him back down. "Relax, or you're going back to the hospital. It's fine. No one knows I have them."

Fully focused on Logan, Goren demanded, "Where...Where did you find them? And why the hell do you still have them?"

"Calm down," Logan warned. "Or I won't tell you."

Goren tied to calm down, but he had a difficult time. Logan shifted to sit on the coffee table facing Goren and explained, "Sutter has never seen any of those items, and he didn't know anything about them. He said Marty asked him about them, too, but to the best of his knowledge, they were never found. Mrs. Sutter says hi, by the way."

"Keep going," Goren growled and waved his hand, grouchy and impatient.

Eames moved the bowl back to his lap. He turned to her, but the imploring expression on her face kept him from snapping at her. She shifted her hand from his neck to play with the curls around his ear. That got to him fast and his agitation settled, refocused.

Logan went on, drawing Goren's attention back to him. "First thing this morning, I went to see Marty, who told me the same thing he told Sutter. The photos of the artifacts were in with the papers for the rest of the items, but he couldn't find the actual artifacts. Annie's place had been ransacked and so had Morris'. During my talk with Sutter, he mentioned someone in passing, an ex-boyfriend of Annie's who had tried to get in touch with him last week. Guy's name is Thomas Sang. He goes to Yale, but he's home for the summer. Lives in Jersey. So I went to see him. He told me that Annie left a parcel for him at his mother's house in Jersey City with the instructions that he do nothing with it until the police come by to get it. I'm the police so I went and got it." He held out a piece of paper. "This note was in an envelope taped to the top of the box."

Goren took the note and read it. He dropped his head back and closed his eyes as he handed the note to Eames. "She did the right thing," he said. "But she went about it the wrong way and it got her killed."

_Dear Police,_ the note read. _When I returned from a trip to Southeast Asia, I found these items among the ones I brought back with me. I have never seen them before and I do not know where they came from. Please return them to their rightful owners._

"Why didn't she turn them in herself?" Eames asked.

Goren shook his head. "She must have been worried about something. Maybe she didn't think she would have a chance. It's all speculation at this point."

"Who gets them?" Logan asked.

"Five countries are involved. The artifacts go back to the countries who own them. The gold, that has to be divided up and distributed to the countries based on the weight of the artifacts they lost. Turn them over to Ross. He can figure it out. That's not our job."

"Bobby..." Logan began.

"I'm not joking, Mike. If anyone gets even a hint that you might have those artifacts, they'll come after you and us. Turn 'em over to Ross. Tonight. Now."

Goren got up from the couch, almost spilling what was left of his oatmeal. He was extremely agitated. "Bobby," Eames began, but Goren shook his head.

"This isn't a game. Now. You have to go now, Mike."

"Okay, okay, I'll take them to Ross. Just calm down."

Logan looked at Eames, who nodded at him. He pulled out his phone and called the captain. When Ross answered, he said, "Can you meet me at the squad room, captain?"

"Logan, I just picked up my sons to take them to dinner."

"We'll wait."

"Can't it wait until morning?"

"Apparently not."

"Okay, what is it that can't wait?"

"I have, uhm, evidence that needs to be placed in lock up, right away."

Ross let out a sigh of exasperation. "Fine, Logan. I'll meet you at the squad room in...thirty minutes. This better be worth postponing dinner with my boys."

"See you then, captain."

Goren had disappeared into the bedroom, returning as Logan completed his call. He was fully dressed. "Where do you think you're going?" Logan asked.

"With you," Goren responded.

"Wait just a minute," Eames began.

"Get dressed," Goren told her. "It's safer if we all go."

"Bobby..."

He silenced her with a soft kiss. "Let's go."

She realized he wasn't going to settle down until the artifacts were someplace safe, which in turn meant they were safe, and he was going to make sure the items got to the right person. "Give me a minute."

She dressed quickly and they went out to Logan's car. Twenty minutes later, Logan was parked in the garage at 1PP and the three detectives were getting out of his car. He opened the trunk and pulled out the bag that held the items in question. "Come on," Goren said impatiently.

"What's got you so uptight?" Logan asked as they headed for the elevator.

"If you knew what I know, you'd be nervous, too."

They got into the elevator and Logan pressed the 11. "Do tell...what do you know about this junk that I don't?"

Goren leaned closer to Logan, at the same time reaching out to grab Eames by the hand. "I know what that junk is worth and what people are willing to do to get their hands on it. If they suspect that we have this stuff, they'll come after us. We won't stand a chance."

"Why didn't they go after Sutter, Bobby? Did you ever think about that?"

Goren grew still, his expression thoughtful. He looked at Logan and Eames, then withdrew from them both. "You know something," he accused with caution.

Eames and Logan exchanged a look as the elevator opened on the eleventh floor. Goren's expression changed as he exited the elevator, moving away from Logan and Eames. "Bobby," Eames began. "Listen to me."

He moved away from her, not inclined to listen to either of them. But she wouldn't let him withdraw. "Please," she said. "Listen. It was something the colonel shared with Logan and me right after you were injured. It has to do with why we were able to get rid of the protective detail on your hospital room."

The paranoia Eames saw in him after he left the hospital returned. He refused to turn his back to them, and his expression turned painful. He felt betrayed and he was not inclined to hear either one of them out. He backed toward the elevator, his breathing turning ragged. Eames knew that if he reached the elevator, he would bolt and she'd never find him. "Bobby, listen to me! We went to talk to Colonel Sutter the night you were stabbed, after you came out of surgery."

His memory was fuzzy, and he remained on edge. He kept his back toward the wall. Logan approached from his left. "Beno Masucci," he said.

"Masucci? What about him?"

"_Listen_," Eames implored. "Beno Masucci and Terrance Sutter are old friends. When Sutter found out who you are and what you were getting yourself into, he talked to his old friend Beno and got a protective order issued by the Masucci family. That was why the Triad backed off. That was why we were able to pull the detail. Sutter got you protected...because you're family."

The elevator doors opened to Goren's right and he shifted quickly to the left as Ross stepped out and looked at the three detectives. "What's going on here?" he demanded, noting Goren's defensive positioning against the other two detectives.

Logan motioned his hand. "He's a little defensive, captain. We have some explaining we need to do. He was out for the count for the better part of a week and a half. He doesn't know what went on and we haven't had a chance to explain it to him. He just got little bits and pieces, and he's misinterpreting things."

"Do I want to know?"

Logan shook his head. "No."

"So why did you call me?"

Logan grabbed the large tote bag that had been smuggled in among Annie and Morris' belongings and handed it to Ross. "These artifacts have to be taken into evidence. Half of 'em are national treasures and half of 'em used to be national treasures. But whatever they are or were, people have been dying because of 'em and they need to find their way someplace safe, like evidence lock up, until they can be returned to their rightful owners."

Although confused about what Eames and Logan were involved in, Goren had no questions about the case. "None of those items have providence, captain. They should never have left Southeast Asia and they need to be returned. They were stolen from the national museums of five different countries. The Triad has been after them, and it cost Annie Kim, Morris Franklin and George Ping their lives."

Ross took the bag. "I'll make sure they get locked away before I leave the building, but I want to know what's going on here. Right now. Eames."

Eames sighed and looked at Goren. "I told you that it's complicated, captain."

"I have all night."

Eames looked at Logan, who was ready to take action, although he had no idea what action to take. Then she looked at Goren, who was utterly lost, confused, defensive and paranoid. He wanted to trust her and Logan, but he was uncertain. They were keeping something from him and he didn't know what to make of it.

Eames focused on her partner as she tried to soothe his hurt feelings and explain that neither she nor Logan betrayed him in any way. "Everything revolves around Colonel Sutter," she said.

"Is he a suspect?" Ross asked.

"No, but he is the central pawn in this game. The victims were all his employees. The activity of the Chinese mob centered around them, and the withdrawal of the mob's involvement was driven by him. Finally, he was partly responsible for my partner's meltdown and his sudden departure from the hospital where he clearly belonged. Sutter has had a role, peripherally or not, in every aspect of this case."

"Can we arrest him?" Ross asked.

"Why?" replied Logan. "He hasn't done anything wrong."

"No, he hasn't," Eames agreed, her eyes focused directly on her partner. "He's involved, but not criminally."

"How did he get the mob to back off?"

"By involving his friend Beno Masucci."

"Excuse me?" said Ross. "His what who?"

Logan and Eames laughed and even Goren smiled. Logan nodded. "Yeah, his that."

Ross finally allowed himself a brief smile. "Please tell me I misheard."

"You heard right," Eames said. "Terrance Sutter and Beno Masucci have been good friends since college. The colonel chose a military career path, well removed from Masucci's business dealings. He has no involvement with organized crime that we can tell."

"And believe me, we looked," Logan assured him.

Goren's agitation was increasing, and Eames watched him carefully. Gently taking his arm, relieved that he didn't snatch it away, she steered him away from the elevators toward their desks. Although he was still upset and angry, Goren let her direct him into the squad room. He sat heavily at his desk as Logan and Eames continued talking to the captain. Goren knew what was coming, and he wasn't looking forward to it. Eames had been smart to steer him away from the elevators and the stairs.

"You're absolutely sure he's not a Masucci pawn?" Ross asked.

Eames nodded. "Yes, but as Beno's good friend, he has been afforded a level of protection from other mob factions that most businesses do not enjoy."

Logan picked up the story. "We also suspect that Beno is the reason no more bodies have turned up and no one attempted to finish the job Quon Li started."

Ross frowned. "What are you saying, detective?"

Goren's scowl was darker than Ross'. "Yeah, Logan," he said. "What are you saying?"

Logan looked at Eames, who met his eyes, encouraging him to go on. "I'm saying," Logan said carefully. "Colonel Sutter called on his buddy Beno for a favor to protect a man who should have been his son."

Goren slammed his hand down on the desk while Ross frowned and said, "What?"

Eames wanted to calm her partner, but she didn't know how to approach him. She could sense the rage bubbling just beneath the surface and knew it would not take much to tip him over the edge. "We just recently found out," she said, becoming very uncomfortable when Goren looked at her. "That the colonel's wife is my partner's mother."

Ross looked at Goren. "It was my understanding that your mother was dead."

Goren shook his head. "No one ever confirmed that. She disappeared when I was twelve, but I never knew what happened to her."

"So relatives raised you?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"You haven't seen this woman since you were twelve and suddenly she's reappeared in your life?"

"No," Goren said angrily, raising a finger. "She's not in my life. She may have reappeared, but I never said she was welcome in my life."

Eames and Logan exchanged another look, and Logan grabbed the closest chair, pushing it across the floor. He stopped next to Goren's chair and nodded at Eames to sit in it. She sat down and, hoping Ross wouldn't misinterpret her actions, she leaned closer to her partner. "Bobby, please, calm down."

Before Goren could respond, Ross said, "You belong in a hospital, detective."

Goren shook his head and stood up. "No one can force me to stay in a hospital."

"Captain, please," Eames said as she got to her feet as well. "I'll take care of him. Just take that bag and get it locked up so those items can be returned to their rightful owners. The loose ends are tied up and Logan and I will finish up the paperwork this week."

Ross looked at Goren. "You don't look well, detective."

"I...I just need to go _home_."

Ross was quiet for a minute. Goren didn't look well at all. "Get him home," he said finally. "I'll need a doctor's okay before you come back, Goren."

Goren didn't have the energy to respond to Ross. He got up and Logan steered him toward the elevators. "Come on, buddy, before we have to take you out on a stretcher."

Eames followed them. "Eames," Ross called.

She looked at him as Logan stabbed the down button on the elevator. "Take care of him. Call me tomorrow; let me know how he's doing."

She nodded, then turned away from Ross to follow Goren and Logan into the elevator.

The elevator ride to the parking garage was silent. Logan helped Goren into the back seat while Eames climbed in on the other side. Once they were clear of the parking garage, Eames moved closer to Goren. "Bobby?"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"We had no plans not to tell you. We were just waiting for you to recover some more."

"Don't...don't keep things from me, Eames. Not when we're working a case..."

"You weren't working the case, Bobby. You got taken off it when you got stabbed. Officially, anyway."

"That's just an excuse," he said angrily.

"I'm sorry," she said, moving closer. "I am. I was trying to do what I thought was best for you. I promise we were going to tell you."

He looked at her for a long time, then he turned away and looked out the window. She let him withdraw. She understood he was hurt, and she questioned their decision to keep so much from him. He had a right to know. Did they have a right to keep him in the dark?

Logan pulled into the driveway at Eames' home and Goren got out of the car, his anger still carrying him, but not for long. Logan and Eames had just caught up to him when he went down. Now, he had no choice, and neither did they.


	32. Rest and Recovery

Eames tried to wake him, but he did not respond. His skin was pale and clammy. He still had a pulse, but it was no longer strong and steady, and he was barely breathing. Kneeling beside her after calling for an ambulance, Logan tried to help, but there was nothing they could do except wait.

Although it seemed like forever, the paramedics arrived quickly. They didn't say much while they worked on him, but they didn't have to. He wasn't doing well, and Eames worried that she had contributed to his condition. She should have tried harder to get him back in the hospital. She should have known how badly he was really doing. She should have known... She just should have.

Standing beside her, Logan slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. She let him comfort her, resting her head against his chest. They stood there until the paramedics got Goren loaded into their rig. One of the crew let them know they would be taking him to the closest hospital, St. John's, because his condition wasn't stable. Eames nodded and followed Logan to his car. She felt numb and didn't object to him driving. It wasn't a long drive, but it was an incredibly long ride.

Logan remained right behind the rig, and Eames watched the paramedics work through the windows in the back doors, until the ambulance driver suddenly flipped on the siren and took off. Eames made a small noise and Logan did his best to keep pace with the ambulance. By the time they pulled in to the hospital parking lot, Goren was already inside. A clerk told them that he was with the doctors, who would be out to talk with them as soon as possible.

Logan got them each a cup of coffee and they waited.

* * *

A nurse finally came out to get them, leading them back to a quiet room where a doctor joined them. He sat down across from them. "When was he injured?" he asked.

"Ten days ago. Maybe eleven. I've lost track," Eames answered.

Lately, one day just blurred into another for her.

"Why was he out of the hospital?"

"Because he's pig-headed," Logan answered. "He doesn't listen to anybody."

"Was he discharged?"

Eames shook her head. "He left AMA."

"I suspected as much."

"Is he okay?"

The doctor nodded. "He's going to be, if he listens and does what he's told. The first thing he needs to do is stay put!"

"There was a reason he left!" Eames replied defensively. "He didn't just take off on a whim. He was driven out!"

Logan reached out and laid a hand on her arm. She settled a little. "He wasn't being reckless," Eames said, more calmly. "He was protecting himself."

"What from?"

"He was being harassed," Logan answered.

The doctor sensed their reluctance to explain the entire situation, so he moved on. "The site of his injury is healing nicely. It wasn't the cause of his collapse but it was a contributing factor. When was the last time he ate?"

"He hasn't had much of an appetite," Eames answered. "He had some oatmeal earlier today, but his stomach has to get used to solid food again. He was still on a liquid diet in the hospital."

"What hospital?"

"St. Vincent's."

The doctor wrote some notes on a pocket notepad. Logan said, "He hit his brick wall."

The doctor looked at him with a frown. "I didn't see evidence of any trauma..."

Logan laughed. "No, doc, not _a_ brick wall. _His_ brick wall, his physical limit. And then he pushed himself past it. He isn't very good at accepting his own limitations. When he thinks there are things that need to be done, he can't take it easy, even when his body sends him warning signs."

Eames nodded in agreement. "He hates being restricted and he doesn't like being told what to do."

"So...how does he manage when he needs to recover?"

"Not very well," Eames complained. "As you can see."

"Actually," Logan added. "She does a pretty good job of keeping him in line. Where most people meet resistance, she can generally get through to him."

The doctor looked at Eames. "So he's close to you?"

She nodded. "Yes. And he knows I care, so he's more accepting of direction from me." She paused. "What's wrong with him?"

"As your friend so eloquently put it, he hit his brick wall. He pushed himself to the point of physical collapse. Add in the fact that he's dehydrated and has had practically no nutritional intake and it's a recipe for disaster. How has his pain control been?"

"Adequate. His injury still causes him a lot of pain."

"I imagine it does. We're going to keep him while we manage his pain and give him fluids. Once he's eating again and his pain is under control, we can discharge him. He should be here a couple of days at most."

Eames nodded. "Okay."

"You may have to keep him sedated," Logan quipped.

Eames elbowed him and he laughed. She asked, "When can we see him?"

"Come with me."

He led them to the trauma room where Goren lay sleeping. Eames stepped up to the bed and gently took his hand. "Is he sedated?" she asked.

"No," the doctor answered. "There's been no need to sedate him. He's resting on his own."

"As a general rule, he doesn't sleep well."

"He will now. His body demands it."

"Can I stay with him?"

"Yes. We're getting ready to move him to his room, so it'll be a few more minutes. Why don't you folks get some coffee or something? He's going to room 317."

Logan took Eames' arm. "Come on," he said. "My treat."

After leaning over to kiss Goren's forehead, she went with Logan.

* * *

Goren was still sleeping when they got to his room. He seemed to be resting comfortably. A nurse was fussing over him, taking his blood pressure, then his temperature. She adjusted his IV bags before she noticed them. "May I help you?"

Logan nodded at the bed. "We're with him."

"He's doing fine. We're keeping him comfortable with pain killers."

Eames nodded. "Thank you."

Logan sighed heavily, weary from the long day. "I'm heading home for some shut-eye," he said. "Call me if you need anything."

On an impulse, she leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Thanks, Mike."

He smiled. "See you tomorrow."

After he left, Eames realized how tired she was as well. She really didn't want to sleep in another chair so she crawled into the bed beside him and curled against his body. He shifted in his sleep, wrapped his arm around her and softly sighed. She smiled and closed her eyes.

When the nurse came in to check on him a little while later, she found them snuggled in each other's arms, both sleeping peacefully, and she left them alone.

* * *

Goren slept hard through the next day, finally waking late that night. The first thing that he looked for—his partner—was also the first thing he noticed. She was cuddled against him in the bed. With a smile, he softly kissed her ear. She stirred and opened her eyes. "Bobby..."

"Hi," he answered.

She turned over and he leaned in to kiss her before she could say another word. She relaxed against him until his hands began to stray. She tried to pull away, but he was persistent. He was feeling much better.

She had to slide out of the bed to get him to stop. "Look around," she gently chided.

He seemed to notice his surroundings for the first time—the white walls, the antiseptic smells, the soft whirr of the IV pump beside his bed. "I...uh...why? Why am I...here? I didn't want to be here..."

She saw the flash of anger in his eyes and she climbed back onto the bed. "Calm down," she soothed. "We're at St. John's in Far Rockaway. You collapsed outside my house. What choice did we have?"

He calmed, realizing how worried she must have been. "I-I'm sorry."

He placed his hand on her hip as she stretched out beside him again. Realizing where he was, he was much less amorous, but he was more relaxed than he'd been at St. Vincent's. He rested his head on the pillow beside hers and they looked at each other in silence for a few minutes. "How long have I been here?" he asked.

"Just over twenty-four hours. You were exhausted to the point of collapse, dehydrated, malnourished. So you're staying here for a few days while they get you sorted out."

"Did you...uh, does...does anyone know I'm here?"

"Logan knows, and Ross. He was here this afternoon. That's all."

"What's been going on...with my mother?"

"She still thinks the world is conspiring against her to keep you from her. The colonel said they changed her medication dosage. He would like you to see her, but he understands if you say no. Eventually, her mind will create a new altered reality to cope with this change in her world view."

"What...what do you think?"

She moved her hand up and down his side. "I think it's totally up to you. I told Sutter I was not going to try to influence you either way."

"I'm not asking for your influence. Just your opinion."

"Because you don't have enough to think about?"

He laughed softly and kissed her. The pain in his side flared, but it was completely manageable. "Am I, uhm, medicated?"

"Can't you tell?"

He shrugged. "My mind's a little foggy, but I just woke up."

"They've been keeping you comfortable with around-the-clock pain medicine. Your next dose is almost due."

"I just...I don't hurt so much."

"That's because you've been resting. It's what you've needed but haven't been letting your body have. You've been in a constant state of alert, putting more stress on your body than it could handle. You haven't been getting the rest you need to heal."

"Did they say how long they want me to stay?"

"Just a few days."

"And you? What do you think?"

"I think it's a good idea. You're finally recovering."

He nodded and pulled her closer. "I, uhm, I want..."

She smiled. "Yeah, I know."

He returned her smile and shifted his position so he could kiss her. He withdrew quickly when the door opened. A nurse came in. "Well, good morning, sunshine," she said kindly. "How do you feel?"

"I, I'm okay."

"Any pain?"

"Some, but it's not terrible."

"Then this stuff is working its magic. I just need your line here and then I'll leave you two alone."

Eames' face colored but Goren smiled. She poked him. The medicine hit him fast, sending his head into a spin. The nurse checked his vitals and asked, "Now how do you feel?"

"Good."

She smiled and patted his arm. "We've been giving you some IV nutrition, but we'll stop that by morning and then you'll need to eat. So if I leave you alone now, will you promise me you'll eat in the morning?"

He nodded. "I promise."

"Then I'll leave you be."

"Thank you."

She gave him a knowing smile and left the room. He turned back to Eames, sliding his hand along her side, then under her shirt. She laughed and squirmed. Delighted, he kissed her and she relaxed in his embrace.

* * *

By mid-morning, he was awake again. Logan was in the room, but Eames was not. Goren shifted in the bed, which brought Logan to the bedside. "Hey, how're you feeling?" he asked.

"Better. Not so much pain."

"Good. They gave you your pain medicine about an hour ago. Alex said you woke during the night."

"Where is she?"

"I sent her to get something to eat. She needs to take care of herself."

"She...she's okay, isn't she?"

"Yeah, and we want her to stay that way. You look a helluva lot better."

"I feel better. Have you talked to the colonel?"

Logan nodded. "He called me this morning."

"How is...my mother?"

"Still demanding to see you, claiming it's her right."

"Her right? Since when? She gave all that up when she left us."

"I know. I get it, and so does Sutter, but she doesn't. Look, nobody blames you for bolting like you did, but you're totally safe here. No one knows where you are but us and Ross. So relax and recover. That's what you need. If Alex comes back and you're all worked up, I'll be occupying the bed in the next room."

Goren smiled. "I'm calm," he said.

With a smile, Logan squeezed his arm. "Let me get your nurse. They stopped running that milk into your arm and you're supposed to eat."

"Milk?"

"Well, that's what it looked like. I'll be right back."

Leaning his head back, Goren closed his eyes. He drifted for awhile. When he woke again, Eames was there. "Hi," she said with a smile when she noticed that he was watching her.

"Hi." he replied, returning her smile.

"Stay awake this time," she teased. "You need to eat something."

"Where's Logan?"

"He went in to finish up the paperwork for our case."

She moved the tray table closer and opened a container of applesauce. She handed him a spoon and the applesauce. "Eat."

Under her watchful eye, he slowly ate the applesauce. "How's your stomach?" she asked.

"It's okay. A little unhappy, but not too bad."

"Think you can manage another one?"

"I think so."

She was surprised by the difference in him. No longer stressed to his limit, his rage and his paranoia were gone. So was his extreme defensiveness. He was relaxed and cooperative. He was more like his normal self and he was healing. When he finished the second applesauce, she moved the tray table away and returned to him. He put his arm around her, but she resisted. "Logan said Ross is on his way, so behave, at least until he leaves."

Reluctantly, he released her, but she leaned in to give him a kiss. "I love you," she whispered.

With a smile, he replied, "I love you, too."

Ross arrived about twenty minutes later. "You look much better, detective."

"I feel better, sir."

"And you sound better. You shouldn't have left the hospital."

Goren thought about correcting him, about explaining himself, but he wasn't sure the captain would listen. Deakins would have, but Ross was an entirely different creature. He was going to take some adjustment, some getting used to. Goren didn't do well with change, so it would take him more time to adapt than most. He and Ross made each other nervous. They lacked a basic trust in one another, but Goren had that issue with almost everyone.

Ross stood there for a few minutes, uncomfortable. Goren hated being off his game in any way, and he hated even more that Ross was there to see him. He shifted uncomfortably, wanting to at least put on a shirt.

"Have you seen your mother?" Ross asked.

Goren's stress level shot through the roof. "I haven't. I'm not sure I will."

"She's your mother..." Ross began.

"Captain," Eames warned, shaking her head.

Ross fell silent, yielding to Eames better judgment. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife, and Eames was glad Goren had already eaten. Finally, Ross motioned to Eames. "Detective, a minute."

Goren watched Eames follow Ross, looking over her shoulder as she left the room. She came back alone. "He wanted to know how you were really doing. I guess he doesn't trust your answer."

"He just doesn't trust me."

"Don't let him bother you. He'll come around in time."

"You sound certain about that."

"I am. You'll win him over."

"You don't know that."

"I know you, Bobby. Trust me."

He reached out and fingered her hair. Then he smiled and drew her into his arms, kissing her deeply. She buried her fingers in his hair and pressed herself against him with a soft groan.

At the elevators, Ross remembered that he wanted to ask Goren something. He headed back to the room and pushed the door open. He stopped in his tracks, backed up until the door was open just a little and he watched for a moment, not believing his eyes. Withdrawing from the door, he walked back to the elevators, his question forgotten.

* * *

**A/N: When Eames tells the doctor that Bobby left the hospital AMA, that means he left "against medical advice." Sorry that I forgot to explain that!**


	33. Private Lives

Logan and Wheeler were at their desks when Ross returned to the squad room. Logan was finishing the forms and reports pertaining to the case he had just helped Goren and Eames close while Wheeler was working on reports from their own just-closed case. Ross hesitated at Logan's desk, thinking back hard to times he had noticed Logan interacting with either Goren or Eames. He seemed at ease with both of them. He was friendly with Eames but not in an intimate sort of way. And Goren...he seemed to have a good relationship with Goren, better than most, except Eames, of course. Ross cringed internally at the memory of what he'd seen.

"My office, Logan," he said when Logan looked up at him quizzically. "Now."

Logan knew immediately that someone was in big trouble. He looked at Wheeler, shrugged and followed Ross to his office. He was on edge as he mentally reviewed everything he had done over the past day to see what could have upset Ross. Coming up empty, he began looking further into the past for something he did that Ross only just found out about. Again, he couldn't find anything. Not knowing why he was being called on the carpet made him nervous as hell. It had to be big; he'd never seen Ross so out-of-sorts. So why couldn't he think of it?

"Sit down, Logan," Ross said, trying to calm himself.

The captain had been so distracted he almost didn't make it back from the Queens hospital in one piece. Three times he had nearly rear-ended the car in front of him and twice he'd cut off cabs when turning, earning himself an earful from each cabbie. His ears would still be ringing if he'd been paying attention.

Logan sat slowly, never taking his eyes off Ross, as though whatever he had done might flash across the captain's forehead so he could prepare before Ross began yelling at him.

But Ross didn't yell. He sat in silence, his mind spinning as he tried to think of the right way to approach Logan. He had to be careful. He didn't know Logan well enough to have this talk, but Logan knew Goren. Unwilling to confront Goren unprepared, he felt the need to feel out the situation with someone who knew Goren well. Based on his observations, Logan fit the bill. Just the thought of confronting either one of the partners made him sick to his stomach, but how could he let this slide? They were partners, for Pete's sake, and partners couldn't...

He made a noise of frustration in the back of his throat that made Logan jump. Ross let out a heavy breath. "How well do you know Goren?"

"Goren? Why? What'd he do?"

"Just answer the question, Logan."

Logan sensed that Ross was not in a joking mood. Of course, Ross was never in a joking mood. Logan decided not to stir the pot. "I guess I know him as well as he lets anyone know him. He's a private kind of guy. He doesn't let most people in very far."

"And you? How far have you gotten?"

"Like I said, as far as he lets anyone get."

"What about Eames? How well do you know her?"

"Not well enough to go home to meet the family," he said with a chuckle. When Ross didn't laugh, he added, "She doesn't really like me so much, but she puts up with me because I'm friends with Goren."

"Why?"

His grin faded. "What do you mean 'why'?"

"Why should Eames have to put up with anyone because they're friends with Goren? Why is it any of her business who he hangs with or what he does?"

Logan suddenly felt like he was stranded on an ice floe in the middle of a river, drifting toward an enormous waterfall and surrounded by ice too thin to support his weight. It made 'up the creek without a paddle' seem like a vacation sport. "Uhm, well, I think that's between her and him. I just know she puts up with me."

"You and Goren hang out a lot?"

"Captain, what's with the third degree? Why the hell does it matter what either of them thinks of me?"

"I want to know how well you know Goren."

Logan was getting annoyed now. "Why? It's not against any rule I know for us to be friends. Once we're off the clock, our time is ours and what we choose to do with it and who we choose to spend it with is none of your business."

Logan was right, but this was a matter of protocol. He stopped, his mind whirring in another direction. Although fraternization between partners was discouraged, there was no written policy against it. As long as they did their job and kept it out of the workplace, honestly, what business was it of his what they did in their off time? He decided that he wanted them to know how careful they had to be, but if he confronted Goren directly, he'd lash out. If he confronted Eames, she'd get mad. In their own way, they would both tell him to mind his own business. He wondered how new the relationship was, if Deakins had known about it but hadn't warned him and if it could possibly be a good thing for his strained relationship with Goren. An intimate relationship with Eames might calm Goren down, make him easier to get along with overall.

"Captain?"

Ross pulled his mind back to the present, chasing away the omnipresent image of his two detectives in a passionate embrace. "This isn't about you and Goren. It's about Goren and Eames."

Logan was instantly on edge, even more than he had been when he thought he was the one in trouble. "What about them?" he asked cautiously.

"I just got back from the hospital.."

"Yeah, I know."

"How close are they, Logan?"

Ross was putting out feelers and Logan was very uncomfortable being in the hot seat. "They've been partners for a long time. He trusts her, and that's a hard place to get with him."

"Does he trust you?"

"With some things, yeah. Maybe with most things, but I'm not as close to him as she is."

"Thank God for that," Ross muttered, desperately trying not to let his mind go _there_.

Logan didn't understand what Ross had just muttered under his breath. "What was that?" he asked.

Ross finally decided there was no good way to have this conversation. His best bet was to be direct. "Is he involved with his partner?"

Logan felt the air go out of his lungs as though he'd been sucker-punched. "What kind of question is that?" he asked when the air began to move again.

Maybe that had been too direct. "One to which I would like an honest answer."

Logan felt a cold sweat break out across his forehead, but he did his best not to appear uncomfortable. "If he is or if he's not, it's not any of my business. Where the hell did that question come from, anyway?"

Ross wasn't the captain of Major Case for nothing, and he could read Logan's discomfort. "They're good. They're very good. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I might not believe it."

"Seen...what?"

"I saw him kissing her, Logan."

_Oh, fuck,_ Logan thought, his mind spinning furiously as he tried to figure out a plausible explanation. "You saw him...what?"

Why the hell would they put themselves in that position? How could they let Ross see that? What. The. Hell.

"After I left, I went back to ask Goren something and they were, ah, busy. I didn't want to interrupt, so I left. To be honest with you, I was shocked. I still am."

Logan shifted uncomfortably, wondering if Ross was testing him. "Why are you asking me these questions? What makes you think Goren's told me anything about his personal life?"

"Call it a hunch."

If Ross could read the friendship between him and Goren, why the hell couldn't he tell that Goren was a good man and not the head case others thought he was?

When Logan didn't jump to deny that the relationship was real, Ross asked, "How long has it been?"

Logan pushed his hand through his hair, his mind still reeling. "Uh, not, not long. But it's been, well, a long time in coming. Just because he stepped through the door doesn't mean he hasn't been sitting on the threshold for a long time."

"So...he's been in love with her...?"

"For a long time? Yeah."

"Did Deakins know?"

Logan laughed a nervous laugh. His ice floe was picking up speed toward those falls. "Are you kidding? I don't think Goren even knew. If Deakins picked up on it, he never gave any indication."

Ross leaned back in his chair and picked up a pencil. He tapped the eraser on his blotter. "Do you understand what kind of position this puts me in?"

Was Ross really asking _him_ for advice? Rhetorical or not, he had an answer for him. "Do you have to be in any kind of position? Can't you just forget you saw it?"

"I wish I could, Logan. I really do. But I did see it, and my options are limited."

Right about this time, Goren would be in a major panic. Logan felt it was his job as Goren's friend to run damage control and see if he couldn't salvage this disaster and prevent it from becoming a tragedy. "So what are your options?" he asked.

"I could forbid it."

Logan laughed. "Okay, _Dad_. Did you read _Romeo and Juliet_? That kind of thing never works. Besides, it's none of your business."

"Unfortunately, they made it my business."

"No, you made it your business by sneaking back to his room."

"I wasn't sneaking."

"Have you ever heard of knocking?"

"I doubt they would have heard."

"Oh, he would have. Goren would have heard. This is a big deal for him, for both of them."

"Well, I could reassign them to different partners."

"Yeah, you could. Could _you_ work with him?"

"No, but you could."

"You have a point. I could. And it might work out okay. But I'll never be Eames. Think about their solve rate. Do you think any other team of detectives could match that? He's brilliant in a scary kind of way, but she makes that brilliance work within the system. She makes it so _he_ works within the system. She grounds him, keeps him focused. I'm not sure I can do that, or even come close. You'd be a fool to split them up."

"But how can I overlook what I saw? _Should_ I overlook it?"

Logan didn't know why Ross was using him as a sounding board, but he was glad he chose to do so. If he'd gone directly to Goren...Logan didn't even want to think about that. It was going to be bad enough coming from him.

"Yeah, Captain. You can and you should. Do whatever it is you have to do, but let this one go. You can split them up, but you shouldn't. They can make it work—they've been doing it for years. Nothing's changed, except you caught them in an unguarded moment. That's really hard to do because he doesn't let himself have that many unguarded moments. He isn't close to many people and there are even fewer he can work with. You think he's hard to deal with now? If you split up their partnership, he'll never trust you, never respect you. That's _not_ the way to deal with him. Trust me."

"There are guidelines..."

"But not hard and fast rules. There are two ways to handle this—the right way and the wrong way. If you pick the wrong way, there'll be no going back. Do you really want to do that?"

Ross propped his elbows on the desk and rubbed his temples. "You honestly think they can do this? Can they work together without letting their personal relationship into the mix?"

Logan had no doubt they could because they had to. "They can do it. Did you have any suspicions before now?"

Ross had to admit Logan had a point. He didn't know many people who could successfully keep their work lives and their personal lives separate. He didn't think it was possible to do, not completely. There had to be overlap. But as long as they could keep their passion for one another out of the squad room, out of their duty relationship... "I'll have to talk to them."

"That'll be a fun conversation."

"I don't hate Goren, and I certainly don't want to make an enemy of him..."

"It'll go a long way toward getting him to trust you if you handle this right. Look, Captain, Goren knows what people around here think of him, and he doesn't want that to touch Eames because people like and respect her. He doesn't want them to know and he'll do whatever he has to do to keep this private. If you think he gives you a headache now, what do you think will happen if you put him and me together as partners? Think about _that_."

"I don't want to think about that."

"At least, give them the benefit of the doubt. Let them have a chance."

When weighing the options, Ross decided that it really was in his best interest—and the squad's—to keep Goren and Eames together as a team.

"Thank you, Logan. I appreciate your input."

"Thanks for asking me first," Logan said as he got to his feet. "That was smart."

Ross watched him walk back to his desk. An hour later, after speaking to his partner, Logan left.


	34. Formulating A Plan

All the way to the hospital, Logan considered how he was going to tell Goren and Eames about his conversation with Ross. No matter how he worded it, he knew that Goren was going to go into a panic before he could get to the end of the story. Maybe he should talk to Eames first. The more he thought about it, the better he liked it. Eames, at least, wouldn't panic. Not right away, anyway. She'd at least hear him out.

He walked into Goren's room, relieved to find him sleeping soundly. He grinned at Eames. "How's he doing?"

"A lot better. He just needed to rest, and he couldn't do that at St. Vincent's, not with the threat of his mother popping in at any time. He was more stressed out than I realized."

"That's pretty bad." He paused, watching Goren sleep. "He's out for a while?"

"Yes. He just went to sleep."

"Let's go get some coffee."

She placed a kiss on Goren's forehead and they left the room. Goren never stirred.

* * *

Once they were settled in a quiet corner of the cafeteria with their coffee, Logan said, "I had a talk with Ross when he got back to the squad room. He was kinda upset."

"Why?"

"He saw something he never should have seen."

Her brow furrowed. She couldn't think of anything that might have upset Ross during his visit. "Like what?"

He took a drink of his coffee, though it was still a little too hot. "He, uhm, he had something to ask Bobby so he came back to the room after he left..."

He waited a few seconds for realization to dawn. Eames' eyes got big. "Oh, my God...no...tell me he didn't..."

"Yeah. He saw you."

When she began to get upset, he reached out and laid a hand on her am. "Relax. What's done is done. He asked me about it."

"How could you possibly have explained that away, Mike? I mean...he didn't see a friendly kiss on the cheek. It's impossible to misinterpret...what he saw."

"Oh, he didn't misinterpret it, and I didn't try to convince him it was anything other than what he saw. But I did tell him to consider the possibilities. He suggested reassigning partners, but who the hell could work with Goren?"

"You?"

"True, and he thought of that, but consider the headaches we give him individually. Can you imagine the damage we'd do to his nerves if we were partners?"

Eames laughed, but it was a tight, nervous laugh. "There's always Wheeler."

"Nah. Ross likes her too much to do that to her. I'm enough for her to deal with and Goren makes her nervous. She would make him nervous and...it just wouldn't work. Besides, Bobby doesn't trust anyone to have your back the way he does. Ross' best bet is to keep you guys together."

"He won't do that, not now. He doesn't like Bobby..."

"That's not true. He's trying, but face it, Bobby has been making that difficult. But you have a handle on him. You make him kinda fit in with the rest of the world. I mean, he's still sort of a square peg in a round hole, but you manage to sand away the corners so he fits a little better. As time goes on, you smooth over the rough edges more and more. Who knows? Maybe someday he'll actually be a round peg. If Ross splits you up, he'd be causing himself unnecessary grief. I mean, if the worst thing he has to worry about is Goren stealing a kiss from you at the coffee machine...what's so bad about that?"

"What did he say?"

"He agreed with me. Splitting you up will cause more problems than he wants to deal with. It speaks a lot toward your professionalism that he never had a clue before now."

"How often have we been around him since we started? Mike, this is all very new."

"He doesn't know how new it is. Besides, it's not as new as you think it is. Bobby's had it bad for you as long as I've known him."

"What? He has not."

"Yeah, Alex. He has. He's just so damn good at hiding, at burying his feelings."

"So how did you know?"

"It's funny how much a guy will spill to a good buddy after, oh, half a keg of beer..."

"When did that happen?"

"It's been awhile now. He was pretty damn drunk, but I knew he was telling me the truth."

"How?"

Logan shrugged. "I could just tell. It wasn't a 'wolf whistle' conversation. It was a confession."

She wondered how long he had kept his heart hidden from her. "He's better at hiding himself than I realized. I never knew he was in love with me!"

"I'll bet you did. The signs were all there for you to see. You just chose not to see them. He hides his feelings, but they overpower him occasionally. Look back. You'll see."

She looked into her coffee, thinking back into the past. He was right—it was there. It lived in fleeting looks, in the stray brush of a hand across her middle back as she walked past him through a doorway. His love once lived in the time he'd put in after hours so she could be with her family. Now it lived in her. Now he had her to share his life. When he'd had no one of his own to be with, no one he thought really cared, he gave his time and efforts to the dead, to finding justice for their victims. And while he would continue to be driven in his quest for justice, there was more to his life now than just the job. There were so many little pieces of the puzzle that would have made a complete picture that showed what was in his heart had she thought to put them together. She just never thought to look.

"What are we going to do?"

"You're gonna keep the relationship out of the squad room, just like you've been doing. Be professional. Put a patch or something over the heart Bobby wears on his sleeve. It's as simple as that. You'll make it work. Don't do anything to draw Ross' attention to your interactions. Make him forget what he saw by not constantly reminding him he saw it."

"How do we approach Bobby with this? He's going to freak and I don't want to cause him any set backs. Maybe if we don't say anything..."

Logan shook his head. "That won't work. Ross is planning to talk to both of you. This is a huge chunk of leverage for him, Alex. He's gonna use it. I'm not comfortable waiting to let Bobby hear it for the first time from Ross. Are you?"

"Oh, God, no. But how do we tell him? And when?"

"You could bring it up while you're making out..."

"Very funny."

He laughed. "Maybe when he's relaxed...pillow talk?"

"Logan, you're not helping."

Still smiling, he took a drink of his coffee. "I'm kidding...well, mostly. Maybe we should tell him when he's not on his game. You know, so he won't panic right off the bat."

She gave his suggestion some thought before she nodded. "I'll wait until he gets his next dose of pain medicine. They haven't backed off to a less potent pain killer yet, so he still gets groggy from it. And even if he overreacts, it's not like he can freak out and take off before we can explain it to him."

"You sure about that? We didn't expect him to take off the last time, either."

She was adamant. "I am not going to leave him alone this time without knowing that he's okay."

"Tell me you always know when something's bothering him, when he's okay and when he's not. Tell me he never keeps it from you."

Logan had a point. "Then...I just have to stay with him until I know."

"That may be a long time. Think you can handle being with him that much without a break?"

"I'll be fine."

"And when you, oh, say, want a shower?"

She punched his shoulder. "Then you can stay with him."

"Alex, he's not a prisoner. And he showed us last time he won't go far. But...how's he gonna run away from this one? You're just gonna have to let him deal with it in his own way and his own time."

She knew that Logan was right. "When did you grow insight?"

He smiled. "Don't blame me. It happened when I wasn't looking."

In silence she drank her coffee. Her cup was half empty before she spoke again. "This is no one's fault but ours. We let our guard down at the wrong time." She took another swallow of coffee. "I'll be lucky if he doesn't refuse to kiss me unless we're in a closet from now on."

Logan chuckled and finished off his coffee. "Let's go, before he wakes up and finds Ross at his side instead of you."

"Is he coming up now?"

"I think he needs to recover from what he saw and figure out how he's going to approach it first, so I don't think he'll be coming up in the next hour or two, but I don't think he'll wait long."

They left the cafeteria and walked down the hall toward the elevators. "Are you sure he's not going to reassign us?"

"I think I convinced him to give you guys a chance. You can do it."

"Mike, we weren't able to keep it a secret for more than a couple of weeks."

"Hey, if Bobby hadn't been stabbed, it would still be a secret. You would have been home making out."

She gave him a shove into the wall as they waited for the elevator. "How angry was he? Honestly?"

"Honestly? He wasn't really mad. He was kind of...in shock. I think he has trouble wrapping his head around a straight-laced cop like you hooking up with a guy like Goren."

She became defensive. "What's wrong with Goren?"

Logan chuckled softly as they got into the elevator. "Put your hackles down. There's nothing wrong with him...well, no more than any of the rest of us. Since I've gotten to know him, I've found there's more right with him than wrong. He's a good guy, Alex, with a good heart. I just don't think Ross has ever taken time to think about what kind of girl would be Goren's type. If he had, I doubt he would have envisioned you."

"Thanks."

"I don't mean it in a bad way. It's just...Ross hasn't taken the time to get to know any of us. He's working off preconceived notions and that's coming around to bite him in the ass. There's a couple of us that he hasn't given a chance, and I think he's regretting that, or he will, in time. You're not in that group of wayward kids, and this has caught him by surprise."

The doors slid open and they stepped out of the elevator. "Mike, he would be well within his rights to reassign us. It's his squad."

Logan nodded. "You're right. And if he does, he'll put Bobby with me, I'm sure. So...he'll be okay, Alex, I promise. I'll always have his back and I trust him to have mine. It wouldn't be horrible. But I don't think he's gonna do that, at least not right away. I think he's gonna give you guys a chance to prove you can keep it professional. No one else in the squad knows, so your secret is still safe."

"There have been rumors about us for years. Now the rumors are true..."

"Only partly," he said with a grin. "Unless you really do stay partners for the sex."

He pushed the door open and held it for her. She walked over to the bed and softly kissed her sleeping lover. Logan smiled to himself, then pulled out a deck of cards and held it up. "Name your game," he offered.

"Rummy."

She pulled the tray table around and sat with her back to the bed while he shuffled the deck. "Rummy it is," he declared, dealing out the cards.

He picked up his cards and made a face. "The dealer sucks," he complained.

She laughed as she drew her first card.


	35. Implementation

Goren stirred, aware of soft voices and quiet laughter near his bed. He listened for a little while, drifting in and out of a light sleep. When he was still, his pain was tolerable, especially with pain medicine on board, something he was learning to appreciate since he'd stopped fighting it. He liked the initial rush and subsequent buzz that came with the medicine as much as he was relieved when the pain subsided.

Although his side hurt, he was healing. They had removed the stitches from his incision and the damn thing itched like hell, which annoyed him. When he scratched it, though, Eames intervened, chasing away his hand. She rubbed it or scratched it lightly, and that brought him relief. It also ignited his desire, which hadn't waned throughout his ordeal. Even exhausted to the point of collapse, he found the energy somewhere to act on his desire for her. Even now, just listening to her voice and her soft laughter, he felt himself stir.

Forcing his eyes open, he watched her play cards with Logan. She was close enough to touch, to smell... He shifted his hips. They didn't notice. She tucked her hair behind her ear, exposing both her ear and her neck. He stirred some more and moistened his lips.

His eyes wandered to the cards in her hand, and he became interested in the game. With his mind distracted, his body calmed. He wasn't paying any attention to what they were saying, but he could tell the conversation was distracting her. It was an effective ploy, which was why his poker buddies stopped letting him ramble during a hand.

She drew a six from the pile and made a move to discard it. "No, use that card," he said.

She looked at him with surprise. "I didn't know you were awake."

He smiled and pointed at her cards. "Look at what you have."

Logan frowned at him when she set down a five card run with a happy smile. She used up her last two cards in the next hand and declared 'rummy'.

"Not fair," Logan complained. "He should have had his own cards."

"Well, next time, deal me in," Goren replied.

"How long have you been watching?"

"A little while."

"Sneaky." He gathered the cards and held them out to Goren. "Here, you deal."

Goren shifted his position and raised the head of the bed while Eames and Logan rearranged the tray table and chairs so that they flanked him on either side of the bed. Eames could tell he was in pain; his next dose of medicine was almost due.

A thin sheen of sweat coated his forehead and upper lip as he shuffled. He leaned to the side, putting pressure on his injury, which helped to alleviate the pain a little. Now that he was up and moving around, the pain was much worse.

He dealt the cards, and when she noticed that he was making stupid mistakes and his breathing was punctuated by little, almost suppressed groans of pain, she knew the pain was getting bad. "Let me get your nurse."

He started to object, but she left the room before he could voice it. He watched her go but his brow was furrowed.

"Something wrong?" Logan asked.

"You tell me. She seems to be, uh, keeping her distance. She hasn't come near me."

"Really? I didn't notice," Logan lied.

He had noticed. She made no move to kiss him when she saw that he was awake and she seemed to take care to remain seated just beyond his reach. She was being overly cautious, and Logan wasn't surprised that Goren had noticed, despite the distraction of his pain.

Eames returned with the nurse, who took his blood pressure and his pulse. "We're going to take you off the IV in the morning and switch you to oral medication, see if that's effective in managing your pain. Once the surgeons clear you and your pain is well managed, we can let you go home."

"It's about time," he grouched.

Eames smiled at the nurse. "He gets grumpy when he's in pain."

"Don't we all?" the nurse replied with a good-natured smile as she injected the medicine into his IV line. "That will help. Dinner will be along shortly. Call if you need anything."

She left the room and Goren closed his eyes and rested his head back, waiting for the medicine to do its work. The rush was stronger than usual, lasting longer before the buzz settled in and chased away the pain. He relaxed and opened his eyes, expecting her to be standing by the bed. Instead, she was near the window. He cocked his head. "Eames?"

She turned from the window. "It's raining," she announced.

"I don't want a weather update," he complained. After a pause, he asked, "Did I do something wrong?"

"No. Why would you ask that?"

"You're nervous about something, and you won't come near me. What's wrong?"

Even off his game, he noticed everything. She hadn't meant to upset him. She was wary about Ross, expecting that at any moment he would come storming through the door, accusations flying. She worried that if he came into the room to find them in any kind of embrace, their partnership would be over. She was protecting that; she was protecting him. She crossed the room to his bed and slid her hand into his, giving it a squeeze. That wasn't what he wanted. He tugged her closer to give her a kiss, which she allowed only briefly. His concern magnified. "What?" he demanded, anger chasing away the calming effects of the medicine. "What did I do?"

"Why do you always think it's something you did?"

"Isn't it?"

"No, yes...well, kind of but not really."

"Well said," Logan muttered, earning a glare from her.

Goren was utterly confused. "What?"

"We need to talk," she said, still standing beside the bed.

Had he still been connected to a heart monitor, his heart rate would have sent off the alarm. "Talk? About what?"

"I need you listen to what I have to say and try to hold your reaction until I'm done."

"I did do something."

"Yes and no. Calm down and let me explain."

Her words had the opposite effect and his agitation increased. Although he loved puzzles, he hated when she was cryptic with him. "Calm down? I did something wrong, but you won't tell me what..."

"Shhh," she interrupted, silencing him before panic overwhelmed him and ran wild in his head. "You remember that Ross came up to see you this morning, right?"

"Of course I remember."

"Well, after he left the room, he came back to ask you something."

Goren frowned. "No, he didn't."

She looked at Logan, who nodded. "Yeah, buddy, he did. He was all kinds of bent out of shape when he came in to the squad room. Wanna guess why?"

"No," Goren replied. "I don't want to guess."

Eames squeezed his hand again. "I'll bet you don't have to guess."

The panic, they were prepared for, as well as anger and several other emotions they predicted he might have in response to what happened. But they were not prepared when he withdrew from them, though in hindsight, Eames realized they should have been. Turning inward, his mind scrambled for some way to deal with Ross. The captain didn't like him. He would capitalize on this opportunity to make his life miserable. Gradually, withdrawal gave way to rage, eclipsing any other emotion that tried to have its say.

Eames reached out and touched his arm, but he pulled away. He was angry that she seemed to be blaming him, punishing him for something unintentional. How the hell was he supposed to know that Ross would come back? Was he so wrong for showing her affection? Dammit, he loved her! He loved her so much it sometimes hurt and no one was going to tell him he was wrong for it! No one was going to tell him what he should or should not feel! And no one, particularly not some little dictator with delusions of grandeur, was going to tell him who he could love!

Spinning out of control, his rage chased away the psychotropic effects of his pain medicine. Anger helped to slide what was left of the pain into the back of his mind, compartmentalizing it so that it wasn't noticeable. He was readily able to do that when he was medicated or furious, and right now, he was both.

"Put the side rail down," he growled at Logan.

"Bobby..."

"Now!"

Logan did as he asked. He'd seen this mood before and he knew there would be no reasoning with him until he calmed down. He just hoped Goren would settle before Ross returned or they would have a big problem.

Eames had anticipated anger, but not blinding rage. She was relieved that he got out of bed on the same side his IV was on, that he wasn't yanking it out of his arm. She walked around the bed as he began to pace as far as his IV line would allow, struggling to get a handle on the runaway train in his head.

Clad only in pajama bottoms because he refused to wear a hospital gown, he paced, his mind spinning. They no longer kept a bandage on his healing side wound, and Eames looked at the angry red line for a second before she scanned the rest of him. She read tension in every line of his body. Looking for any indication of unsteadiness from the medicine he had just received, she saw none. His rage overwhelmed everything and the medicine could not keep him down. She moved closer. "Bobby," she began. "Listen..."

He spun on her, his balance a little off. She caught him when he stumbled, and he looked into her warm, honey-colored eyes. "I won't..." he began, his voice trembling with rage.

He stopped and pulled it in, eyes closed, chest heaving, hands balled into fists, a picture of barely contained fury. When he opened his eyes, he had managed to work his way back from the edge, but not far. "I won't give you up," he said with angry resolve, his eyes blazing. "This...This wasn't my fault, and I won't apologize...not for loving you, not for showing that I do! I don't give a damn who sees it! I am not ashamed of what I feel!"

"Bobby," Logan said gently. "You're overreacting. No one said you can't love her. No one says you did anything wrong."

Goren waved his hand at Eames. "Then why the hell won't she come near me?"

"Because Ross is coming back," Logan replied.

Goren shifted to look at Eames. She nodded. "You didn't let me finish talking," she said, trying not to show her irritation.

He shook his head. "I...I'm not going to shelve it, Eames. I won't do it."

"I'm not asking you to do that. We just have to be discreet, that's all."

"Ross _knows_."

"Yes, he does. But Mike thinks he will give us a chance to prove we can work together without our personal relationship interfering with the job."

"Haven't we always done that?"

"Have we?"

He pushed his hand angrily through his hair. "I have!"

Unable to keep her distance any longer, she moved in to intercept his pacing, placing both hands flat against his chest. "It's going to be okay," she promised. "It will work out. We can do this."

"But..."

When she rested her hands on his chest, his rage splintered and fragmented, and he could no longer grab onto it. Her fingers moved over his skin, and the anger began fading quickly, taking with it the pain in his chest and the knot in his gut. He splayed his hands over her rib cage, his eyes scanning her face. "But...Ross..."

"Let's see what he has to say. Maybe he listened to what Mike had to say."

Goren's eyes sparked again. "Why would he?"

Logan watched, fascinated by the rapid transformation from enraged grizzly bear to simply agitated teddy bear, initiated by the touch of a woman's hand. "Hey, man, if I hadn't talked him down, Ross would have overreacted and I would have caught the fallout. Someone had to put perspective on what he saw."

Eames very lightly drew her nails over his healing incision, scattering his focus. He closed his eyes and could no longer hold onto his anger. He enjoyed her touch as his anger dissipated completely, replaced by the spark of an emotion just as consuming. Without opening his eyes, he leaned in toward her. She reached up to meet him halfway. Kissing her deeply, he pulled her against his body and held her tight, letting desire wash over him to feed his passion.

Logan looked away, grinning. It sure didn't take much effort for her to turn his mood around.

A knock at the door interrupted the tender moment, and the two lovers scurried apart. Goren moved to the closest chair and sat down heavily, more to hide his body's reaction to the broken embrace than out of fatigue. Pain was regaining its hold on him. He nodded at Logan, who went to the door. Eames walked around the bed and gathered the cards off the tray table, expecting them to be delivering his dinner.

She was surprised when Logan admitted Ross to the room. The captain looked around the room, his gray eyes settling on Goren. "It's good to see you up, detective. You're feeling better I presume?"

Goren nodded, very guarded. Ross nodded at Eames. "Eames," he said by way of greeting, then looked back at Goren. "I hope you don't mind that I stopped by on my way home."

Goren shook his head, although he minded very much. He knew how to play the game, even if he chose to use a different play book.

Ross continued, "I assume Logan told you about our discussion earlier?"

Eames nodded. "He did. Captain, we never meant for you to see..."

"I know, I know. It was partly my fault for not knocking, and for that, I apologize. To say I was surprised is an understatement, but it also speaks to your professionalism that I had no idea beyond what the rumors have said."

Goren and Eames looked at each other, then back at Ross. "Captain," Goren said, struggling to keep his voice even as his anger resurfaced. "I...I will not give her up."

"I'm glad to hear it. I would never ask you to do that." He looked at Eames, then back at Goren, directly addressing the junior partner for once. "I've given this a lot of thought. As a matter of fact, it's the only thing that was on my mind today. I took what Logan said into consideration as well."

The partners exchanged another look and Ross stepped to the foot of the bed, placing his hands on the footboard. He looked back and forth between them, each one on an opposite side of the bed. "I want you both to understand the position I am in. If the brass finds out, there will be hell to pay for all of us. Whatever the rumors say, they must continue to remain unconfirmed. I realize it's an unwritten rule we're skirting, and that makes it a judgment call on my part. I will not have the chief question my judgment, so I am going to trust my detectives to have my back."

"Which means?" Eames asked.

"Which means your personal relationship does not exist while you're on duty. What you do on your own time and who you do it with is your own business, but on the job, you belong to me. I can't tell you not to sleep with one another, but I _can_ tell you there will be no trace of it on _my_ time. Logan suggested that I give you the benefit of the doubt, and I am willing to do that, but I need you to meet me halfway. I had no idea this was going on before now, and I want no indication that it has continued past this point. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, captain," Eames answered.

Goren nodded. "Yes, sir."

Ross looked at Logan. "I don't think I would survive you and Goren as partners," he said.

"That's too bad," Logan said. "I think it would have been fun."

"Exactly," Ross said. "Too much fun for you, too little fun for me."

Logan laughed and grinned at Goren, who returned a guarded smile. Ross looked at Goren and Eames again. "Do not make me regret this, detectives. Get well quickly, Goren. We look forward to having you back."

"Thank you, captain," he answered, and he meant it.

Ross studied him for a moment before he nodded and left the room. The door closed, but no one moved. Finally, Goren got painfully out of the chair. While his rage had masked the pain caused by his agitated movements, it hadn't protected him from aggravating his injury. He was hurting. "Thanks for stepping up to the plate for us, Mike."

"I'm just glad I didn't strike out," he answered as he opened the door and peeked down the hall. "Okay, no sign of him. Go for it!"

Eames gave him an annoyed look. "Don't be an adolescent, Logan."

Goren pressed his arm across his abdomen, and grabbed the bed as he faltered. He felt hot and nauseous, and his side was throbbing. He hadn't moved around so much since being admitted to St. John's, and in his rage, he'd overdone it. It was going to take time to rebuild his stamina and endurance—and to heal. Eames walked around the bed, stepping into Goren's arms. "You okay?" she asked with concern.

He held her tightly against his body for what seemed a long time. "I'm better now," he answered, and it wasn't a lie.

She lightly stroked his back, which diverted his attention from his pain. He rested his cheek against her head, eyes closed, and he didn't want to move. She scraped her nails gently over his skin, and he trembled with pleasure. She pressed a kiss to the center of his chest. "Thank you for saying that."

"For s-saying what?"

"That you weren't going to give me up. Considering what was at stake, it took a lot for you to say that."

He shrugged. "It's the truth. I think he deserved to know where we stand on the whole thing."

She coaxed him into the bed, where he stretched out on his side. She placed a kiss in front of his ear. "I won't give you up," he insisted. "Not for anyone or anything."

She sat behind him on the bed and continued to scratch his back. "Neither will I, Bobby," she said softly. "Neither will I."

He made a sound that was part hum, part moan, and he relaxed under her gentle caress. By the time his dinner arrived, he was sleeping. Eames had to chase Logan away from the tray three times before sending him to get his own dinner. She stretched out on the bed beside Goren and by the time Logan returned with a meal for her, she was also sleeping.


	36. His Decision

The phone stirred Eames from a good sleep, but it stopped ringing before she was fully awake. She heard a voice quietly speaking, a familiar man's voice that didn't belong to any of _her_ men: father, brothers, partner. "Okay, I'll have her call you this morning...Yes, sir."

The room fell into silence. She drew herself further from sleep, enough to be aware of the easy breathing of the sleeping man beside her, enough to recognize the voice belonging to the man who answered her phone. "Mike?"

She heard the rustle of his clothes. "Good morning. How'd you sleep?"

She sat up and stretched. He offered her a hand to help her from the bed. "Pretty good." She looked out the window. It was still dark out. "What time is it?"

"Uh, just after five. Sun'll be up soon."

"Did you sleep in that chair?"

"No. I left a little while after you fell asleep. I woke about three, couldn't get back to sleep, so I came back here. Funny thing—he hasn't make a sound. He usually snores when he crashes on my couch, or when I crash on his."

"He only snores when he's drunk."

Logan chuckled. "Well, that explains it. Why don't you run and get something to eat? I'll stay here. They just gave him his medicine, so I guess he'll be out for awhile longer."

She nodded and yawned, walking to the bathroom. When she came out, she asked, "Did you answer my phone?"

"Oh, yeah. I didn't want it to wake you. I answered it when I saw that it was Sutter."

"What did he want?"

"He was asking how Bobby's doing, and he wants another get together. He sounds kinda desperate. I told him I'd have you call."

"Thanks." She looked at Goren, sleeping soundly on his injured side. "I don't know what to do about the colonel's request. The last time I talked to him, her paranoia was getting worse. He says it's been awhile since 'they' were after her."

"I know you want to protect him. So do I, but there's only so much we can do. This is his decision. No one can make it for him."

She nodded and moved to the head of the bed, looking at his face. He looked so peaceful, but she knew the turmoil that roiled just beneath the surface, behind that sweet, sleeping face. She reached out and gently played with his hair. "He's torn over what to do. He wants to do the right thing, but he doesn't always look out for himself."

"Maybe he just needs help with that."

She gave that some thought before nodding in agreement. "Mike, do you mind if I run home for a shower and a change of clothes?"

"Not at all."

"I'll bring back some bagels."

"Sounds good. Think you could manage some lox?"

"I think I can do that."

She grabbed her bag and got as far as the door before she realized that her car was at home. "Uh, Mike..." she said as she turned around.

He was standing a couple of feet behind her, smiling and holding out his keys. She took the keys and gave him a hug. He tucked his arm around her to return the hug. "It's right near where I parked when the ambulance brought him in."

"Thank you," she replied.

He watched her leave, then sat down and turned on the television.

* * *

As she left the hospital, she called Sutter. He answered on the second ring. "Hello?"

He sounded frustrated, and she wondered if his wife was the cause of it. "Hello, colonel. This is Alex Eames."

"Detective! I'm happy to hear from you. I spoke with Detective Logan earlier. He said Robert is improving."

"Yes. He's much better."

He paused and she heard a door closing on his end. "Is he still at home?"

"No. He collapsed at my place the other night and had to be put back in the hospital."

"Honestly, I'm glad to hear that. Not that he collapsed but that he's back in the hospital. I was very concerned when you told me he'd left the hospital. He was not ready to leave."

"No, sir, he wasn't."

"And again, I am very sorry that my wife drove him to leave."

"So am I. He really set back his recovery."

The colonel was silent for a long time, to the point that Eames checked to see if the call had been dropped. "Colonel?"

"I'm still here, detective. I...I wish you would ask him to consider seeing his mother again."

She sighed. "I will talk to him, colonel. But it may not go the way you hope it will. Bobby is a gentle, sensitive man, but he harbors a great deal of anger for what your wife did to him and his brother. If he does agree to see her, and it doesn't go well, that's too bad for her. Do not ask me to do this ever again."

Sutter let out a heavy breath. "You don't understand how fragile my wife is. She once had an episode because my son broke a cheap vase in the living room when he was a toddler. The doctors have added a mild sedative to her medication regimen to calm her and they've changed the dosage of others, but we won't know how effective those changes are for several weeks. She remains agitated about her sons and she needs to see them. She's heading for another psychotic break if I can't make that happen. This is the first time in over 30 years I've had any control over one of her breaks."

Eames felt badly for him, but she would not allow her sympathy to cloud her responsibility toward the man she loved or his brother. "Colonel Sutter, consider what she put my partner and his brother through and then ask yourself why they should give her another chance to hurt them. Neither of these men particularly want to see her at all, but Bobby will probably agree to meet with her one more time. Before you start doing a happy dance, don't count on him giving her anything more than that. Frank might consent to a visit if his brother asks, but don't expect a happy reunion and family dinners around the tree singing Christmas carols. They are hurt and angry and I don't blame them one bit. If they agree to this, it will be her chance to have her say, and that's about it. They were lost to her when she abandoned them as children and that, sir, was her fault, not theirs."

"Her illness drove her to do what she did. No one seems to take that into account," Sutter said defensively.

"They were boys who were forced to abandon their childhoods much too soon and that's something they will never get back. That wasn't fair to them. I understand that her disease causes poor judgment, but it doesn't give her the right to do what she did."

"Didn't the foster care system..."

She made a bitter sound. "If they had chosen that path, there's no telling what would have happened to Bobby. The boys would have been split up, shuffled from home to home because no one wants teenagers, especially not angry teens who have a tendency to act out." She shook her head. "The bottom line is: she had a responsibility to her sons and she walked away from it and from them. You don't have to ask me to choose sides. I stand by Bobby and Frank and nothing you could possibly say is going to change that."

Sutter was quiet for a little while longer. "I understand their anger and I admire your loyalty. Please understand me. I am trying to do what is best for my wife."

"I understand that, but I won't let you coddle her at the expense of her sons. How long do you think it's been since they had anyone but each other to do what was best for them?"

"They have you now, Detective Eames. I'm sure they appreciate that."

She was definitely appreciated by the brother who mattered to her. "I will talk to Bobby and let you know. That's all I can do; it's all I _will_ do."

"I'll ask no more. Thank you."

She ended the call, pocketed her phone and got into Logan's car.

* * *

Eames returned with half a dozen bagels, a tub of onion and chive cream cheese and a container of lox. She also had an overnight bag and a drink tray containing three coffee cups. She wasn't surprised to find Goren still sleeping. Logan got up and took the bags and the coffee from her, and she set her overnight bag in a corner. "How is he?" she asked.

"You've only been gone a couple of hours. He's fine."

"Did he wake up?"

"For a few minutes. I doubt he'll even remember it. Feel better?"

"I'm fine. I talked to Colonel Sutter."

"Yeah? And?"

She looked torn. "I think he's in a very difficult situation and he's unsure about the best thing to do. That goes against his decisive military personality. He wants to do what's best for his wife, but he's developed a deep affection for Bobby and he doesn't want to cause him any pain. Unfortunately, there's no way to do what's best for everyone without someone getting hurt. I told him I would talk to Bobby."

"You gonna talk him into seeing his mother?"

She shook her head. "No. It's his decision. I just promised I would ask him to consider it. I'm going to talk to Frank, too. If I can convince him to stand by his brother, maybe it will help Bobby deal with it better."

"Frank made it clear that he doesn't want to see her."

"I know, but he might do it for Bobby."

"That would be the only reason he would."

Logan chose a bagel from the paper bag they were in and spread it with cream cheese. He opened the plastic container of lox and draped two pieces over one side of the bagel. "Does Bobby really think that highly of Sutter that he would consider putting up with that woman again?"

She nodded. "Yes, he does. But his emotions are all over the place." She chose a bagel of her own and spread it with cream cheese as she talked. "He's so conflicted and I don't know how to help him. I don't want him to get hurt."

"What's he conflicted about?" He took the coffee cup with his name on it. "She deserted him when he was a kid. I'd have no problem telling her to get lost."

"But you're not Bobby. He's very sensitive. She's still his mother and part of him feels some kind of responsibility toward her. He reminds himself that she's sick and it's not entirely her fault."

"That's a bunch of crap, a useless excuse. She's a grown woman with a mind of her own. She abandoned her sons and she knew what the hell she was doing."

Before Eames could reply, Goren spoke. "Do you really think so?" he asked. "You really think she did what she did completely in her right mind?"

Logan was surprised, but he didn't regret what he said. "Yeah, I do. That's why I've got no sympathy for her. She had none for you and Frank."

Goren shifted himself in the bed and raised the head, rubbing his side. Eames moved the tray table to him and set his coffee on it. She kissed him and handed him a bagel with the tub of cream cheese. She gently swatted his hand away from his healing wound when he began to scratch it. "Leave it alone," she scolded.

He moved his hand away from his side. "Do you agree with Mike?" he asked.

"I don't know what to think, Bobby, but I will support whatever decision you make."

"I want your opinion, Alex."

She took a bite of her bagel and looked at Logan as she chewed it. "We need to stop having these discussions when we think he's sleeping."

Logan grinned. Goren pushed his hand through his hair. "When did you talk to the colonel?"

Eames spread the cream cheese on his bagel since he didn't seem inclined to do so. "You only heard part of the conversation, then?"

"I guess."

She sighed and pushed the bagel toward him. "Eat, Bobby. You missed your dinner."

Logan moved a chair closer as she sat on the edge of the bed and rested a hand on Goren's thigh. "I went home early this morning to shower and change. I talked to the colonel while I was gone."

He paused and shifted restlessly. "How is she?"

"First, take a bite of your bagel."

He knew she was watching out for him, but he was annoyed. She gently rubbed her hand over his thigh, smoothing over his irritation as well as the sheet that was drawn to his waist. He did as she asked, and she rewarded him with an answer. "She's okay. The change in her medicine seems to be helping her. But ultimately, she's going to suffer another psychotic break if she doesn't see you soon."

"Honestly, Bobby," Logan said. "I don't get why you give her the time of day. She hasn't done a damn thing for you in the past thirty-three years. If you feel like you gotta owe something to someone, then owe Frank."

"I know how much I owe Frank. But she missed out on more than half our lives. I want her to own up to that."

"And if she won't?" Eames asked.

Goren shrugged, but she could tell it bothered him. "I have to try," he insisted.

Eames scratched his thigh through the sheet. "So you want to see her?"

He shifted his gaze to her hand. "I...uh, yeah. Yeah, I do."

She stopped her hand from moving. "When?"

He took a minute to let his mind clear. "S-Soon. Before I'm discharged. Today, maybe."

Logan stopped chewing. "You sure about that? Remember what happened last time."

He nodded. "I'm sure. It's neutral ground here, and I'll be expecting her. I don't want her to know where I live, or you, either."

Eames moved to get off the bed. "Okay, then, I'll call—"

Goren grabbed her before she slid off the bed and pulled her back toward him. "Bobby—"

He silenced her with a kiss. Surprised, she struggled for a second before she relaxed and went limp in his embrace. Her fingertips caressed a path down his face, around his ear and into his hair. When he finally sat back, she remained prone across his lap, looking up at him. She slid her hand along his face. "I never know what to expect from you."

He smiled. "Expect...the unexpected."

With a laugh, she pushed herself up to kiss him again. "I'll call the colonel and set up the visit, if you're sure."

"Will you be here? Both of you?"

Eames nodded. "Of course I will."

Logan also nodded. "Sure."

"Don't get yourself in trouble..."

"Me? In trouble? Just how hard did you whack your head?"

Goren smiled and seemed to relax. Eames took his hand and gently played with his fingers, knowing that he liked that. She caressed his palm with her thumb and he softly groaned. "There's one more thing..." she said. "Frank. She wants to see Frank."

"That's up to my brother. You'll have to talk to him."

"I'll need his number."

"My, uh, phone," he said as he looked around."I don't, uh..."

"You left it at your apartment when you ran away from St. Vincent's."

"I did? Why would I...?"

"You weren't exactly in your right mind," she answered.

Logan pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to her. "It's in there. You were paranoid, buddy, and looking for a safe place to hide. You didn't want anyone to find you."

His memory of the time was very fuzzy. "So I went to Alex's?"

Eames squeezed his hand. "You knew I would find you and you would be safe. You knew I would take care of you."

"I...I, yeah, I can see that."

"I'm glad you think that way," she said. "But are you absolutely sure you're ready to see her again?"

He shifted uncomfortably and scratched his side. "No," he answered honestly. "I'm not sure. But it's something I have to do."

She tried one last time. "You were dead to her for over thirty years. Why not let her go back to her delusion and leave you alone?"

He knew she was just trying to protect him. "I-I want her to know that she was wrong...about me. She left us, and never tried to find us. She moved on with her life and left us to flounder through ours. She could have given us a father, a good life. I want to hear from her why she didn't."

Logan snorted. "You think she'll come clean with the truth?"

"That doesn't matter. I don't care if it's the real truth or not. I want to hear her version of it because that's what's real to her. I want to hear what she has to say so I can move on."

Eames began to withdraw from him so she could make the arrangements for his meeting with his mother. He pulled her toward him with a sudden jerk of his am. Catching her, he kissed her again. "I, uhm, I...want..."

With a knowing smile, she teased his lips. "Later," she promised as she slid off the bed. "Once all this is over. I'm going out in the hall to call the colonel. You two behave."

The two men looked at each other as she left the room. "What does she think we're gonna do?" Logan asked.

Goren looked around the room and scratched his head. "I, uhm, I don't know. Got any ideas?"

"Let's see if we can come up with any."

* * *

Goren was out of bed in a chair when Eames returned. Logan was by the window, watching the rain. She looked at them with suspicion. "What did you do?"

Logan turned away from the window and shrugged. "Nothing."

"But don't think we didn't try to come up with something," Goren said with a smile.

Smiling, she shook her head. "Mike, can you go get Frank at Bobby's and bring him here?"

"Yeah, sure."

"The colonel and his wife will be here at 12:30."

Goren scratched the back of his neck. "Uh, do you think you could get me some clothes while you're there, Mike? I mean...it was bad enough facing Ross in my pajamas with no shirt. When I see my mother again, I would prefer to be fully dressed."

"Sure. I'll be back soon."

"Thanks," Eames said as she walked to Goren.

He took her arm and pulled her down into his lap. "You made me a promise," he reminded her, rubbing his hand over her thigh.

"Yes, but later."

He slipped his hand under her shirt. "I don't want to wait," he said.

"You never want to wait."

He pulled her shoulders down and cradled her against the arm of the chair, nuzzling her neck. "It'll help me to settle down before she gets here."

She laughed as he tickled her, squirming in his arms. "No matter what we do," she giggled. "You won't be settled."

"Let's try," he implored.

She squirmed her way out of his lap. "Just sit there for a minute."

Before he could object, she left the room. He was still trying to calm himself when she returned with his nurse, who gave him a kind but knowing smile. "Your girlfriend says you want to wait a little while before we remove your IV."

Her naming of Eames as his girlfriend gave him pause, and he hesitated before he answered, "Uhm, yes, please. I, uh, my m-mother is coming to visit, and she's kind of...difficult. I need to...to keep this as an option, just until this afternoon, after she leaves."

"If you're afraid she'll upset you that much, maybe you should wait to see her."

Goren shook his head. "I...I, uhm, it's complicated. As long as I can keep it as an option...well, this is the best way for me to do it."

She studied his face and finally nodded. "I'll give the doctor a call. Right now, I'll give you the pain medicine you have due and we'll see how it goes this afternoon."

"Thank you."

She injected the medicine into his line. Then she looked at Eames with a smile and a nod and left the room.

Goren missed the exchange between Eames and his nurse. He'd closed his eyes and rested his head back to ride out the rush as the medicine hit him. Eames settled on his lap once more and lightly scratched his side. With a soft groan, he lost himself in her embrace.

* * *

**A/N: For those not familiar with American food (thank you for the reminder!): Lox is is a fillet of brined salmon. Served on bagels with cream cheese, it is very popular in New York!**


	37. A Violent Break With Reality

**A/N: This chapter gave me a lot of trouble and it took awhile to get right. So apologies for the wait. I hope it was worth it.**

* * *

When Logan returned with Frank, Goren was dozing in the chair and Eames was reading the paper. She set it aside when they came into the room. "Hi, guys," she greeted them.

"Hello, Detective Eames," Frank said, his tone guarded.

With a sigh, she gave in to her partner's affection for his brother and said, "You can call me Alex."

He grinned at her and she looked away, still not sure how much she liked him. Logan handed her a backpack. "What'd you do to him?"

"Nothing. You know how easily he still tires."

He pointed at her shirt. "You missed a button."

She looked down and both men laughed. Her face colored and she scowled at them, which only made them laugh more. The laughter woke Goren. "What's so funny?" he asked with a frown.

"Nothing," Eames answered. "Here. Trouble there brought your clothes."

Goren's face relaxed as his irritation faded with his sleepiness. "Thanks, Mike. Hi, Frank."

"Hey, little brother. How are you feeling?"

"Better." His eyes drifted to Eames, and he smiled. Her face flushed a deeper red as she smiled back. "Why are you blushing?" he asked, amused.

Logan chuckled. "We were teasing her," he said.

"About what?"

"About wearing you out," Logan answered.

"And missing a button when she got dressed again," Frank added.

"You did?" Goren asked.

"No, I didn't," she answered, glaring at Logan and Frank, who chuckled some more. She turned back to Goren, who was grinning now and trying hard not to laugh with the other men. "You'd better get dressed. The colonel and your mother will be here soon."

"Already?" he said as he took the backpack from her.

"It's quarter after twelve," Logan said.

"Damn," Goren muttered as he started to get up.

Logan was closest to him, and he stepped forward to give a hand when Goren lost his balance and toppled back against the chair with a grunt of pain. Frank stepped around Eames to help. Once he was on his feet, Goren walked to the bathroom, stopping to give his partner a gentle kiss. She smiled and he touched her cheek before moving past her.

"He's always had a tender heart and a gentle touch," Frank said, looking fondly after the brother he'd raised. "He's a good man."

"I know he is," she replied. "Thank you for coming, Frank. I know you didn't want to see your mother."

"I could care less about my mother. I never expected her to turn up." He ran his hand through his hair, and his expression revealed his anger. "Make no mistake. I'm not here for her or even for myself. I'm here for him. Whatever mess I may have made of my own life, I love my brother and I'd do anything for him."

Eames allowed herself to feel some affection for Frank. Maybe he wasn't the troublemaker she'd had him pegged as. "Thank you, Frank."

He looked her up and down, and a smile played at his mouth. "We've had some misunderstandings in the past, Alex, but I want to make one thing perfectly clear." He pointed toward the bathroom door. "I know what I've done for him and so does he. I have no regrets about that. None. If we had it to do all over again, I would want my mother to do the same thing because I think I did a better job raising him than she would have."

Eames glanced at Logan, who had always liked Frank. Looking back at Frank, she commented, "You were always there for him."

Frank nodded with a smile and a spark of pride in his eye. "I was there for all his firsts," he said with a chuckle. "I don't much remember his first words or his first steps, but I was there the first time he got drunk, the first time he got stoned and the first time he got laid."

"All the important ones," Eames snarked. "You must have been so proud."

The two men laughed as Goren came out of the bathroom. "What's so funny?" he asked.

With a chuckle, Logan said, "Frank was just telling us about the first time you got laid."

Goren looked confused and then worried. "No, he wasn't...were you?"

With another laugh, Frank shook his head. "I left out the intimate details."

Goren looked relieved. Eames stepped up to him and placed her hands flat against his shirt. She wondered how Logan knew that the shirt he picked out was one of her favorites. Deep blue in color, it was made of downy soft fabric. She loved stroking the soft shirt, which made it one of his favorites as well. He placed his hands on her waist as she rubbed her palms over his shirt. Some of the anxious tension in his chest eased and he leaned in to kiss her. Unexpectedly, he became lost in the embrace, pulling her snugly against him and deepening the kiss. She slid her arms around his neck and played with the shirt's collar. Logan and Frank exchanged a smile. "She's good for him," Frank observed.

"Hell, yeah," Logan replied. "But if we don't break it up, Momma is gonna walk in on a lot more than she needs to see."

Frank laughed as Logan stepped closer to the busy couple. "Hey, hey, hey," he said lightly. "Break it up. Mom's gonna be here any minute."

Eames stepped back reluctantly and smoothed the front of her shirt, working to bring herself back under control. It was more of a struggle for Goren to do the same. Logan grabbed his coffee from earlier and pressed it into his hand. "Man, you two have to get a handle on this before you go back to work."

Goren took a deep drink, then made a face and looked at the cup. "It's cold," he complained.

"It's from this morning," Logan agreed, taking the cup back and putting it on the tray table.

The cold coffee did the trick. Distracted from his arousal, Goren seemed to settle as he sat down with a grunt and pulled on his shoes. He rubbed his aching side and leaned his head back, eyes closed. "What time is it?" he asked without opening his eyes.

"12:27," his brother answered.

Goren opened his eyes and sat forward, looking at Frank. "I know you didn't want to do this..." he began.

Frank shrugged. "Alex asked so nicely, and you had such a hard time when you had to do it alone. I didn't want Ma to put you through that again. It's just not right. Haven't I always taken care of you?"

"You have."

"Well...I protected you from her when you were little. I feel like that's something I should keep doing."

"I'm not little any more. I can take care of myself."

"I know that, Bobby, but sometimes, you still need to be protected."

Goren shifted his gaze to Eames, who nodded. "Sometimes," she agreed.

Normally, Goren would argue the point. He'd learned to take care of himself over the years. But he didn't really remember his mother very well, not like Frank did, and he was willing to let Frank be his big brother right now, if it was a role he wanted to fill.

Standing by his chair, Eames reached out and smoothed a few stray curls. He slid his hand along her waist and smiled at her. She saw the anxiety in his eyes and in the way he held himself. She lightly ran her fingers around his ear, silently letting him know that he was going to be okay, and he believed her.

Right on time, a knock filled the quiet of the room. Logan opened the door and nodded at Sutter, hoping the brothers were ready to deal with their mother. Something told him it would be another difficult visit.

Sutter motioned for Frankie to enter the room ahead of him. With a gentle touch, he guided her through the doorway. She stopped to look around the room, and he stepped to her side. He knew Goren, Eames and Logan, but not the other man, who had to be the older son, Frank. Sutter was glad to find him there. Perhaps his wife wouldn't be so hard on Robert this time. Perhaps she would focus on Frank and cut the younger man a break. Sutter hoped that seeing Frank, her favorite, would be enough to prevent another visit to her altered reality, where 'they' sought at every turn to do horrible, ill-defined things to the people she loved. Faced with a reality that shattered the delusion she'd created over three decades earlier to escape a life she no longer wanted to live, he realized she was very close to a break. He'd sent his daughter and the baby home and followed the suggestions of her doctors, hoping they knew what they were doing. Such a situation had never presented itself before, and so much of her care was trial and error as it was. Although a break seemed inevitable, by supporting her fantasies this time, the doctors hoped to avoid a major episode. Perhaps this one would be mild, even one that could be managed at home. He had his doubts. The last time they hoped for a mild event, she'd been two months in the hospital under sedation.

Once in the room, she stopped and looked at the people who waited there. She was very displeased to see Eames and Logan. Suppose she preferred to visit her son without their supervision? Why did they have to be present? Vague memories of William Goren flashed through her fragile mind. Something wasn't right about the way they hovered about her son. Eames moved, catching Frankie's attention. The woman dared to place a hand on Bobby's shoulder. She was standing far too close to him, acting much too familiar. Frankie's mind still cringed at memories of William, coming home well after midnight, drunk and smelling like sex. She scowled at Eames, a woman she saw dragging Bobby in his father's lecherous footsteps, to be led astray by promises of carnal pleasure. She wanted to chase that woman away from her son, but hesitated when Logan moved in from the other side in a protective gesture that she misinterpreted as possessive. Exactly which one laid claim to Bobby? Both perhaps? William would be appalled at the mere suggestion that a son of his could possibly be attracted to anything but a woman. That thought brought her great satisfaction. Then she noticed the other man in the room. His resemblance to Bobby was undeniable, and she could only conclude that he must be her older son, the son she had always loved best. "Frank?" she said as she stepped toward him. "My Frankie?"

Frank took a step back and raised his hand. "The only reason I'm here is because Bobby asked me to be here. I'm here for him, because seeing you has had him so badly shaken. So say what you have to say and try not to rattle my brother again. Let's get this over with because I have better things to do with my time than spend it with you."

Frankie was stunned. "You dare to speak like that to your mother?"

Frank couldn't keep from getting angry. "My mother? My mother?" he demanded, incredulous. "You really dare to play _that_ card?"

"Frank..." Goren said softly.

Frank turned toward his brother. "No, Bobby. Don't go getting all soft now. You're too sensitive for your own good sometimes. I know there's a lot you don't remember, and that's always been a good thing, but the one thing I do need you to realize is that, as bad as you remember it being with her, it was always a whole lot worse."

Goren cocked his head a little to the left and swallowed hard. "I...I remember...a lot..." he started.

Frank had no doubt of that. His brother had a phenomenal memory, but there was a lot that remained hidden in the recesses of his mind. His claustrophobia reminded him of the closets in which she had locked him, and his anxiety filled in some of the other blanks, but his mind protected him by suppressing much of what had happened when he was little. "I know you do," he said softly before turning back to his mother. The tenderness left his voice, replaced by hard anger. "After you left, he never got locked in another closet, never had to suffer through another beating or get screamed at because he was too damn perceptive. After you left, he never doubted that he was loved. I never _let_ him doubt it because he'd questioned his life enough!"

Struggling not to show any of his pain, physical or otherwise, Goren got up from the chair. "Frank..." he said quietly as he stepped toward his brother. Frank looked at him as he said, "I...I didn't want this. I wanted..." He licked his lips and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "I wanted her to tell us why. I think she owes us that much."

"That and a whole lot more. Bobby, nothing she has to say can make up for what she did to us. Nothing!"

Focused entirely on his brother, Goren moved closer to him. "I don't expect anything from her," he said, not really surprised by Frank's angry outburst. "There's no justification for what she did, sick or not. I only want to hear what she has to say about it."

Calmed by his younger brother's gentle words, Frank reached out and squeezed Goren's arm. Turning to face their mother, he said, "Say what you have to say. After that, I never want to see you again."

"How can you say that?" she cried. "I took care of _you_! I raised _you_! You weren't a boy any more the last time I saw you!"

"What about him?" Frank demanded angrily. "He was only twelve! He deserved more than I could give him! He deserved a mother!"

"I don't care about him right now!"

Frank shook his head in disgust. "That's the problem. You never did."

"You don't understand!" she shrieked. "I...I couldn't do it. He was...so...so..."

"What?" Frank challenged. "What was he? So gentle? So kind? Was he too sensitive? Because that's what he was when you left him!"

"No, no! He was a terrible child! He was drinking and smoking and cavorting with girls..."

"No, he wasn't! He was twelve! You're thinking of _me_! _I_ was doing all that when you left! Not Bobby!" Frank took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself. "Not Bobby...he was thirteen the first time he got drunk and fifteen the first time he slept with a girl! That was well after you were gone. You left because of _me_, not because of him. How dare you make him think otherwise! Why would you put that on him?"

Frankie's face twisted into a look of disdain. "How can you defend him? He was awful!"

Frank shook his head. "After you left, I raised him! _I_ did! I know where he was and what he was doing because he trusted me. I was the only one he had and I was the only one who never let him down. I was the only one who loved him." He turned fully to face his brother. "I'm sorry, man. I thought I could do this, but I can't. Just remember...she's wrong. I was the one, not you. She left because of me, and I'm fine with that. It ended up being best for you. No regrets, little brother. I've got no regrets."

He gave his brother a hug and looked at Eames. "You got this?" he asked.

She nodded. "We'll take care of him."

He smiled and left the room, not giving his mother another glance.

"Frank!" she called, but he was gone. She turned to Goren, enraged. "Look what you did! You turned him against me!"

Goren raised his eyebrows. "I did?"

"You hateful boy!"

She began to advance on him, hand raised to strike, but Sutter had seen and heard enough. "That's it!" he roared, grabbing her arm and holding her firmly. He had years of experience in restraining her without hurting her. "I don't know what you have against this man or the boy he once was, but I've had enough. It's time to leave him in peace."

Goren stepped forward. "No, colonel. Please. If-If I'm going to have any peace, I need answers."

Sutter studied the younger man, who had carried the burden of his mother's abandonment for far too long. Reluctantly, he released his wife. "Answer his questions, Frankie, and then you can be done with him. For the life of me, I don't know why you insisted on seeing him again, if your only goal was to tear him down."

She looked at her husband with surprise. "Why...What do you mean?"

Sutter motioned toward Goren. "Just...talk to him, so we can leave him to rest and recover."

She looked at Goren, who stood near the chair with Eames beside him. He was much more pale than he had been when they arrived. "Well?" she said irritably, without sympathy. "What do you want to know?"

Eames trembled with rage, but she held her tongue and let him speak. His manner, patient and gentle, changed nothing in her mind. That woman did not deserve his kindness or his forgiveness. She did not deserve him. "Why...that's all I want to know. Why did you leave?"

"Your brother was the good one," she said. "I couldn't handle you, and I knew you weren't going to get any better. Your father was gone, and I couldn't raise you by myself. Don't you see—I had no choice."

Goren's expression did not change. "No, I don't see. We were your sons. You had a responsibility to us, and you walked away from it. Whatever I was, good or bad, you had a hand in creating."

"Your father left me," she asserted. "He abandoned me with two young boys to raise all by myself. Boys!" She shook her head. "I couldn't do it, so the fire...the fire was a blessing to me. That fire relieved me of my responsibilities and I was able to begin my life over. I was so fortunate to find Terrance, who has been a perfect father to my children."

Goren's eyes shifted to Sutter, whose expression was a mix of anger, sorrow and regret. Sutter was deeply disappointed in his wife, at her malicious attitude toward the sons she had not seen in over three decades. Goren looked back at his mother. He did not doubt that the fire her mind had conjured had once been very real to her, that she had believed at the time that he and Frank were dead. "Did you ever give Frank and me another passing thought?"

"Why would I? I had to put you behind me so I could love the children Terrance gave me."

"And the picture?"

"What picture?"

Much of the color had returned to his face, but it was the color of anger, not health. "The one of Frank and me on the mantel in East Hampton. You took it with you when you left. I saw it the first time we came out to talk to the colonel."

Frankie looked at her husband. "You kept that old thing?"

"That picture deserved to be seen, Frankie. Those boys deserved to be remembered."

"You sentimental fool," she snapped and looked back at Goren. "I haven't seen that picture since I married Terrance. I threw it away long ago."

Eames could not believe what she was hearing, that the woman saw absolutely nothing wrong with her actions. She didn't understand how she could discard her sons as easily as a photograph. "The same way you threw away your sons?" she asked in a tone of bitter anger.

Goren turned his head toward her, surprised by her anger, but she was focused on Frankie. Seeing the fire in her honey-brown eyes, he remained silent, hesitant to interfere. Frankie gave her a look of disdain. "What are you?" the old woman asked with an air of superiority. "One of his tramps, I suppose. He's just like his father."

Eames took two steps forward, stopping when her partner touched her shoulder. She remained focused on his mother. "You know nothing about him and you have no right to judge him—or me."

"I know where he came from. That's enough for me to know both of you."

Eames barely held onto her anger, balling her hands into fists at her side. Goren stepped forward to stand beside her. He slid his hand down her arm, and she could feel the anger in him. "Let it go," he said. "She's not worth it."

She looked up at him, ignoring the noise Frankie made in response to his words. She could see the rage, barely controlled, in his dark eyes. She could feel it in the tremor of his hand where it touched her arm. She was impressed by his control, his ability to remain so calm in the face of the anger he must be feeling. She tried to do as he asked and let go of her anger, but only because he'd asked. He turned back to his mother. "I remember more than my brother realizes," he said with a calm that belied the turmoil churning just beneath the surface of his control. "And I know the damage you did. But...you were still my mother, and I never understood why you left. Now...now I know, and now I understand. You did the best thing you could have done for us. You left us with each other." His eyes narrowed. "Maybe Frank made some mistakes. Maybe I caused him some frustration. But he says he has no regrets, and neither do I."

Goren shifted his eyes to Sutter, whose shoulders carried the weight of his wife's illness and the injustice she'd forced upon her sons. "I'm sorry," the colonel said, sincere in his regret. "But thank you for seeing her."

Goren nodded, his fury made a little calmer, a little easier to control by the strength of Sutter's character. "You love her, for all her flaws. I understand that kind of love. You've been good to her, and she needs you." He set his jaw and tipped his chin up just a little, letting them know that he carried with him a pride she could not destroy. "But _I_ don't need _her_. I have the answers I wanted. It's time for her to leave us behind, once and for all. Nothing can right the wrong she did, but now I think I can let her go."

Never able to take criticism, Frankie advanced on him with a cry of rage, lashing out as she often had when he was a boy. Sutter, who knew her well, had never seen such overwhelming rage in her, but Goren had seen it before, many years ago, and it was one of the things he had never forgotten. He braced himself as she struck him. He had no intention to retaliate, but he did not anticipate his partner's protective reaction. Usually, he was the one stepping forth to protect her. He did not expect her to step in to protect him, but she did, receiving several blows intended for him. She also had no qualms about striking out to protect them both. She landed a single blow before he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her away.

As soon as Frankie attacked, Logan started toward them, but he was across the room and Sutter got there first. The colonel grabbed his wife and pulled her away from the partners at the same time Goren grabbed Eames. Sutter recognized the signs of her breakdown and he ordered Logan to get a nurse or doctor. He held her firmly as she continued to struggle, yelling at the two detectives she had just attacked. She called them servants of Satan and accused them of pursuing her children and her grandson. They were the ones who had taken Frank and Bobby from her. Frantically, she insisted that Sutter let her go so she could protect the children, which was something time and experience had taught him never to allow.

Goren slowly released Eames as Logan returned with a cadre of nurses. Sutter wrestled Frankie to the floor and held her firmly so she could neither escape nor get hurt. His lip was bleeding and his eye was swollen where she had managed to strike him before he got her under control and away from the partners. "She's schizophrenic," he explained. "She's having a breakdown."

One of the nurses ran from the room, returning with a doctor, who ordered her to administer the powerful sedative he'd had her bring. Once Frankie was calm, they called for a stretcher. Logan had remained close to Sutter, to help if necessary, and he held out a hand to help Sutter to his feet, handing him a clean handkerchief. Tehy wheeled Frankie from the room.

"You okay?" Logan asked.

Sutter nodded. "This is nothing." He lifted his shirt away from the waist of his jeans to reveal the scar left by a knife wound in his side. "She did that to me years ago, before I learned how to approach and restrain her."

Eames looked at Goren, who touched her elbow, his eyes searching hers. She reached out and ran her fingers over a bruise that was already forming on his jaw where Frankie had hit him with as much force as she could manage. He pulled her into a hug, reassuring her. As he released her, Sutter said, "You remember that, don't you?"

"It's not something you ever forget."

"No, it's not. I hoped I was wrong this time when I saw it coming. I hope I'm wrong every time, but I never am. I'll arrange for her to be transferred so her own doctors can treat her. I am truly sorry, son. She said some terrible things."

"She's said and done worse," he replied. "I remember a lot worse. I guess I've always been a demon's spawn in her eyes."

"You can't take anything she says to heart."

"I know that now, but I didn't when I was seven. She...she did a lot of damage during the first five years of her disease. Frank tried to fix it, but he didn't know how. But I survived."

Sutter extended a hand which Goren readily accepted. "I think you turned out very well, my boy. I promise, I will never ask you to do this again. But I hope that I can still call you sometime?"

Goren nodded. His mother had robbed him of the chance to have Sutter as his father, and that was probably the worst thing she had ever done to him. "I'd like that, sir."

Sutter smiled. "Maybe we can go fishing or something."

"Maybe. "

Sutter knew he could never make up for the past, but he genuinely regretting not having Goren for a son. He smiled at Eames, thanked Logan for the help he'd offered and left the room. Goren closed his eyes and leaned against the wall, holding his hands in tight fists to keep them from shaking.

"That was quite a show," Logan observed. "You grew up with that?"

Goren opened his eyes to look at his friend. He nodded. "She showed symptoms years before her first break with reality. I didn't understand it back then, and I was terrified. Frank didn't understand it, either, but he tried to be brave, so I wouldn't be so scared. He always tried to protect me, but he wasn't much of a match for her."

Eames slipped her hand into his and tugged. He let her lead him to the bed and sat down. Gingerly, he touched his jaw, then he lightly rubbed her arm. "I...I remember...the first time..."

He trailed off and trembled at the memory. Eames stepped in front of him and began to unbutton his shirt. He looked down and watched her free each button. She'd moved past most of her anger; the bit that remained was for the frightened child he had been. He, however, still felt the rage and he was having a hard time letting it go. He kept his hands in tight fists, and Eames knew that when he finally moved past it, he was going to crash hard. Although he still had deeply mixed emotions and loyalties concerning his mother, Eames hoped he had been honest with Sutter when he said he could now let go. As she undid the button at each wrist, his hands finally began to relax. She helped him remove the shirt, tossing it onto the chair. She was surprised to find another bruise darkening on his chest. She touched it lightly. "She hit you hard."

She had hit him hard, in more ways than one, and now that his rage was fading, he felt the dull ache of the fresh bruises. He pulled her closer, resting his forehead against hers. "She's, uh, very intense, and..." He paused, searching for words he could not find. "You...You defended me."

She touched his jaw, gently fondling the still-darkening bruise. Her bruises were hidden, unlike his, but he didn't seem to notice his vulnerability at the moment. "Of course I did," she said, kissing him lightly.

Logan cleared his throat, interrupting the moment. "If you're okay now, I'm gonna get going."

Goren drew his attention away from Eames and looked at him. "I'm okay...uh, we, we're okay. Thanks...for staying."

"Don't mention it. What are friends for?"

"It's been a long time..."

When he trailed off again, Logan just nodded. "I think you're right that the best thing she could have done was leave. I'm glad you have your answers now, as painful as it might have been for you to get them."

Although Goren agreed, he didn't respond. Eames gently pushed his shoulders, forcing him to lay back on the bed. He coughed, drawing in a sharp breath at the pain in his side. Logan moved to the bedside. "Frank sure laid it out for her. He was a lot nicer than I would have been, but he said everything I wanted to say." He squeezed Goren's arm. "Get some rest. I'll come by tomorrow. How 'bout I bring breakfast? Maybe a magazine or two?"

Goren's eyelids were heavy, his smile, sleepy. "Sounds good."

"Good night, kids," he said lightly as he crossed the room and left.

Eames watched Goren for a minute. Now that he wasn't so tense, his body was forcing him toward sleep. She helped him to change and then pulled the sheet up over him. He shifted in the bed and motioned for her to join him.

As she climbed into the bed beside him, he rubbed his chest where it burned beneath the darkening bruise caused by the blow of his mother's fist. Eames chased his hand away as she did when he scratched the healing knife wound in his side. She placed a tender kiss on the bruise.

He smiled and gently pulled her into a hug. "Are you sure...she didn't hurt you?" he asked.

"I'm fine. Just a couple of bruises."

He guided her closer into a kiss, and she could feel the tension continue to leave his body. Snuggling into his side, she caressed his chest and watched him struggle against his fatigue. She continued to tenderly stroke his skin until he surrendered to sleep.


End file.
